Masquerade
by Katreal
Summary: It's the thief's turn to play the detective, embarking on an investigation that will allow him to see deeper into Conan's heart than ever before. At the same time, Conan searches for his conspicuously silent anchor, Ran. Eventual KaitoxConan, ConanxRan
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Don't own Magic Kaitou of Detective Conan...I want Kai and Conan though...

It was late, far past the time for all decent working people to be in bed and resting for the looming day ahead. It was somewhere between dusk and dawn, far enough from each time so that the sky was a deep and utter black, unstained by the color of twilight. Even the moon shined sleepily, the soft gentle moonbeams falling like tears from the sky. They fell unimpeded for the longest time, until they were swallowed by the intensity of police floodlights, the whirr of helicopter blades, and the sirens and shouts of the Tokyo police force.

It might as well have been daylight around the museum, for Kaitou Kid did not sleep.

There he stood, tall and regal on the top of the building, the eyes of all the police force were trained on him, the magician of the moon. He held a glittering gem up to the moonlight, to all below it seemed as if he were mocking the police by showing off his prize, rubbing it in their faces that everything they tried to stop him with failed. He stood, basking in the attention, with the helicopter's searchlights trained on him he felt as if he were performing on stage. In a way he was. The heist was his performance. The police were his audience.

There was only one thing missing.

He was standing there, the copter's blades whipping around his cloak, the strength of the wind threatening to dislodge his hat and send it flying into the air… He was waiting for something. Waiting for the roof doors behind him to burst open. Waiting for a short figure to emerge from the darkened gloom, sweating and out of breath, but still wearing that triumphant smirk that told Kid that he had figured it all out.

He was waiting for that too-mature, for a child's voice, to call him out. Waiting to turn around and see the predator lurking behind those blue eyes, shining with adrenalin, hidden vainly behind large glasses. He was waiting to answer to the unparalleled determination and intelligence with his own smirk and say; "Well met, Tantei-kun.", the words that would start the duel between the thief who acted like a kid, and the detective who masqueraded as a kid.

The door slammed open, but he didn't bother turning around. The footsteps that thundered up the stairs were of too many and too heavy to be the person he was waiting for. Kid gave a heartfelt sigh, listening with half an ear as Nakamori barked the orders to have him surrounded on all sides.

It looked like the guest of honor would be absent. Again.

The middle aged inspector had apparently grown a few brain cells since the last heist. He had signaled the helicopters to hover as close to the side of the building as possible, probably in an attempt to _dissuade_ the thief from using his hang-glider. With the preparations completed, Nakamori had squared himself to start the customary cop versus criminal banter before he ordered his men to capture the white-clad jewel thief.

"The game ends here, Kid! The only way you'll be leaving this roof is in cuffs!"

Kaitou Kid threw a slightly bored glance over his shoulder, sizing up the concentration of navy and white clad officers and gauging his methods of escape. He didn't really feel like playing with them today. After months of nothing but police incompetence he was getting quite bored of it. He craved a challenge; he craved something to spice back up the routine of Nakamori's defenses. Kid would have even been happy to have Hakuba back on his case, if only for the extra challenge the British detective posed.

Unfortunately, Britain was rather far to go looking for a rival, and there was one located closer to home. The problem with that choice was that he hadn't seen the chibi-tantei in roughly half a year now. Despite the fact that he'd seen the boy's guardian—the supposed 'meitantei' Mouri Kogorou—around at least four out of 5 heists, he hadn't seen chibi-tantei on any of them. He'd even gone so far as to specifically target the Suzuki's large—and now dwindling—collection of jewelry because he knew the daughter would push the detective's daughter—funny, he hadn't seen the chibi-tantei's girlfriend around, either—into enlisting her father's aid.

It hadn't worked obviously, or else Kid would not be standing on the edge of the building, surrounded by police officers, pondering this problem and planning out the fastest escape route. He would have much rather been leading Tantei-kun along a merry chase that would test the ingenuity and resourcefulness of both of them, instead of bothering with the small-fry like the police.

Oh look, Nakamori was getting impatient with his continued silence. He figured he should humor the poor man before he had an aneurism. "There's only one game I would like to play, Inspector, and you lot don't look like qualified players." He smiled apologetically, taking a slightly guilty pleasure in watching a vibrant red bleed into every part of Inspector Nakamori's face. That phenomenon could never get old. "I suppose I shall have to bid you good gentlemen a good night."

With a casual motion he placed the stolen jewel in the pocket of his suit before taking a careless step backwards. Kid plummeted from the rooftop, leaving behind shouts and chaos as the police surged forward to lean over the edge and observe the white-clad criminal's apparent suicide plunge. The thief took it all in stride—metaphorically, of course—and lazily reached into his jacket, pulling out a device that was modeled after his card gun. The only difference was that this one shot a grappling hook. Once he had fallen for the correct length of time, Kid spotted what he was looking for. A smile spread across his face as he mentally praised his ability to predict the police force's reactions. The window he'd left open was still open. Apparently, the police had been too busy scrambling to try and catch him. They hadn't even noticed.

The kaitou shot the grappling hook and the three pronged end caught on one of the many ledges that littered the side of the museum. He really had to thank the architect; the man had apparently been fond of them. In less than a second the hook had caught, and the line drew taught, jerking his body slightly and causing a sharp pain to flow through his arm.

The sudden momentum caused the jewel to bounce out of his pocket and continue falling, but he didn't really care, it wasn't the one he was looking for. All Kid needed to do now was swing his body toward the side of the building, disengage the line, and dive through the open window.

The landing, which didn't go quite as well as he'd planned, resulted in an undignified heap of thief and white cloth. He was just glad that the majority of his audience was still on the upper levels, so there had not been anyone to see his less than satisfactory landing. He didn't know if his performer's pride would have survived if he'd been seen.

Kid shook off the thought; he wasn't quite out of the woods yet. The thief rifled through his bag of tricks before pulling out the police radio he'd purloined from a guard upon his entering the building. He switched it into receive only mode.

Immediately, Nakamori's voice poured through, "He's in the building somewhere! It looks like he made it inside around the third floor. All officers are to immediately comb the building, _do not let him escape!_" Nakamori's voice had risen to a dangerous volume at the final words, forcing Kid to hold the radio at arms length to save his eardrums. "Maa…" He sighed, "That's about the only endearing thing they have about them—they never give up."

Kaitou Kid decided he'd better finish up this heist, using the art of quick change to appear as nothing more than a junior officer on patrol. He cleared his throat once, before changing the radio mode to broadcasting, "Inspector!" The voice that came from his mouth was several pitches lower than his own and of a completely different timbre, "This is Officer Takanori, I've found the window and the remains of the hook that Kid used." He leaned out the window to look up at the dangling wire, just in case someone was looking down from above, "But there's no sign of the thief."

He pulled back inside as a sting of invectives came over the frequency, by Nakamori, of course. Now, all he had to do was wait until he was ordered to search the exits, and then he'd be home free.

"Takanori, get down to the ground floor and seal off the exits! Everyone else, search those last few floors!"

Kid gave a confirmation of the order and switched off the radio, smiling faintly to himself. "Thank you, Nakamori. You've just made my job easier."

He really did wonder when the Inspector would learn, but he wasn't going to question his luck. This way he could get home in time to catch a few hours of sleep before school in the morning. He'd think about what he was going to do with a certain missing detective tomorrow.

-

Ayumi craned her neck, looking up at the large building they were passing. It towered over the streets, casting a shadow that fell over her youthful face and stretched almost to the other side of the road.

It was the first time she'd been through this part of town in the morning. Normally she walked to school with the Shounen-Tantei, a small group of friends that were just as big mystery nuts as she was, but her mother had some errands to run, one of which required the eight year olds presence. She was glad for it—she got to sleep in!—but she felt a little guilty about leaving her friends, although that was just until sometime after lunch, when her mom would drop her off at school.

Her mother was heading straight toward the museum, pulling out a notebook as she neared the crowd of people on the steps. Ayumi gave a resigned nod as her mother told her not to wander off, stay nearby, and that she wouldn't take long. The girl shrugged and skipped off toward the side of the building as her mother joined the crowd of reporters. Apparently something had happened here. Normally she would have at least some idea as to what had happened. She had gotten into watching the news pretty regularly. She was aware that not many kids her age bothered, but she'd noticed Conan always solving these cases and then blaming it on the news or some kind of TV program. She had been searching in vain for that channel he spoke of, but so far there'd been no luck.

Ayumi hadn't caught any of the evening news yesterday because of a special broadcast of Kamen Yaiba. Good for the budding detective or not, she was _never_ going to miss Kamen Yaiba, if she could help it. Learning how to fight bad guys was just as vital, right?

She nodded her head, agreeing silently with her thoughts, and started to plan out a game in her mind. Her mother would be busy for at least another ten minutes so she had plenty of time to waste. She was going to play detective! A look of determination settled across her face, she'd solve the mystery of what had happened on her own, then she'd show the rest of the Shounen-Tantei that she was just as capable of deduction as Conan and Ai-chan.

_Stay focused and calm_, Conan's words echoed through her head as Ayumi recalled one of the few times they'd managed to weasel some words of wisdom from the detective genius of their group. _Don't overlook anything, even the smallest detail could be a clue._

Let's see, she narrowed her eyes and surveyed the area. The grassy area directly between the walls and the sidewalk had been taped off with police tape, meaning—to her overactive imagination—that a crime had actually been committed and it wasn't just some publicity event.

She crept closer, quickly checking for any officers that might try to impede her investigation. Luckily they were all too busy trying to keep order in the crowd of reporters to care about a curious girl. She crouched down at the edge of the grass, taking in the trampled appearance. There'd been a lot of people standing around recently—police officers?—she'd been to the museum before and she knew that the curator got really angry if anyone stood on the grass. After a moment's thought, Ayumi giggled quietly, she remembered Genta being chastised for walking on the grass when the class came to this building on a school trip. Even sensei had been scolded by the security guard when she went to retrieve the errant boy.

_Work one question at a time, try and connect the answer to another._ Her Inner Conan spoke up again, nudging her thoughts into a single direction. So, there'd been a lot of police officers around, but why? Inner Conan nodded his approval and she preened a little before returning her attention to the building. She craned her neck up, looking along the wall, quickly taking notice of the open window on the third floor. There was an officer working at it, it looked like he was examining the frame. The wheels in her mind turned, something had happened last night, at this museum. It looked like a simple robbery, but no simple break-in would garner _this_ much press attention. Maybe someone was killed?

_Don't jump to conclusions! Wait until you have all the facts before pulling them all together._ Ayumi shook her head, taking one last look around the wall. She frowned when she saw a strange lump half hidden in the still standing grass against the museum wall; she knew there weren't supposed to be any rocks here.

After a quick look to make sure the guards were still ignoring her, she snuck passed the police tape, treading carefully across the trampled grass and toward the lump, pulling out a small tissue she could use to pick it up with along the way. She remembered Conan's words about fingerprints, so she'd taken to carrying around a couple tissues with her; the fact that she needed them now gave her a faint feeling of pride for her foresight. The object was small enough to fit in her hand, and dark colored, she could feel the edges through the tissue, but the surface seemed smooth for the most part. Maybe something from the souvenir shop inside? She wrapped the tissue around it and stuffed it in her pocket, before deciding to continue in her investigation.

The small black-haired girl ducked back under the caution tape, letting out a faint sigh of relief that she hadn't been caught. She wasn't like Conan. He had a reputation with the police and they gave him a chance to explain himself before taking him home to his guardian and giving him a lecture. If she had been caught…

It didn't matter now. She'd gotten away with it!

With a faint giggle to herself at her sneakiness, Ayumi decided to move closer to the diminishing gaggle of press around the building's entrance, she wanted to see if she recognized the officers giving the press conference.

"Ayumi-chan!" A hand closed around her shoulder as she got close and she turned around to see her mother's face. "I told you not to wander off. We have to get going if you're going to make your appointment." Ayumi let her mother drag her away, out from under the shadow of the museum and the mystery she hadn't solved.

She did know one thing. It wasn't a murder. The man giving the press conference wasn't Inspector Megure, but was someone else, someone she remembered seeing somewhere…

Ayumi bit her lip, trying to remember. She knew she'd seen him before... but where?

A/n: Eh heh…the only kind of bunny I dislike are plot bunnies. You can blame HittocereBattosai for this one. I mentioned the idea off hand and she wanted me to write it, so I worked on it and she beta'd it for me. I have events outlined till near the end of the story, and a rough draft written up until the first major-major event in the story.

Anyways, warnings: This will probably either end up having hints of KaitoxShinichi(Conan) or be the full blown pairing. I'm not sure whether I want to take the story as far as them actually getting together, but the premise will be there.


	2. Chapter 2

She still hadn't figured it out. She wracked her brain, pulled up every memory her eight year old mind could call up, but could not place where she'd seen the mustached policeman before. He wasn't one of The Officers—note the capital letters, they were special!—and she could only, with dubious clarity, remember meeting him once. Ayumi let out a frustrated sigh in the back seat of her mother's car. She put her small fist against her forehead and shook it, as if the motion would stir up some sort of remembrance.

It didn't work, the only thing she could recall from that time were scattered images of makeup, pinching, and robes. That man hadn't left much of an impression on the easily distractible primary student, and she was paying for her childish attention problem with a growing headache. Her mother must have heard her quiet groan of frustration, as she glanced quickly over her shoulder before returning her attention to the road, "If you're not feeling well, I can take you home."

Ayumi shook her head, "I'm fine, Mom." She smiled broadly, reassuringly, knowing the older woman could see her through the mirror, "I just wish the cars would move…"

The girl leaned her head against the cool glass, pushing the frustrating thoughts out of her mind for the time being. Despite it being in the middle of the day, the small road was packed and the moving was slow, which did nothing to lighten her mood. She just wanted to get to school, to be with her friends, to laugh with them. But once she got there, there would be something missing.

Ayumi closed her eyes, focusing on the glass beneath her skin. It felt good in comparison to the rather warm air and helped soothe her headache, easing the frustration that had been building over the last few weeks. The thing at school, plus the thing with her self-imposed case, had added up to a fair amount of the negative emotion and it felt good to be rid of some of it.

_One…_

_Two…_

_Three…_

_Five…_

_Five types of them._

"Five different types?" Ayumi mumbled aloud, before her eyes snapped open.

"_Hey! You young ladies, isn't it a bit too early to learn about makeup?"_

"Ah!" Her exclamation didn't reach her mother's ears, but the woman did see the sudden straightening of her daughter's small frame, "Ayumi…?"

"I'm fine!" She was almost giggling to herself, of course she was fine, she knew where she'd seen the guy.

"_Kids should act like kids, right?"_

It was a theatre! Ran-san's dad had taken the Detective Boys to a play. They had been in a dressing room…The images were coming clearer now, now that she had some idea of where to look. She remembered the time, it would be little effort to remember the name. The actors had been introduced and then…

"_Nakamori-keibu!"_

That was him! That was the mustached man she'd seen on the steps, the one giving the conference, the one answering the questions. There was something about him; something she knew would be the key to solving the puzzle.

Her brows furrowed, now what was it…?

The car jolted to a stop, scattering her thoughts to the four winds. Ayumi looked out the window, surprised to find that they were suddenly in front of her school. She'd been so absorbed into her thoughts that she hadn't noticed turning off the packed road and finishing the final leg of the trip to the institution. Her mother was getting out of the car now, but she leaned back in and smiled at the girl in the back seat, "Are you ready to see your friends?"

"Yeah!" All thoughts of the case were forgotten, pushed aside in favor of seeing her friends again. She'd talk the details over with them, and they'd be proud of her for finding all of the clues and putting them together. Her hand fell to her side and rested lightly against her pocket, feeling the odd lump inside.

The only thing that shadowed her mood was that she knew Conan would not be there to look on her with pride.

-

"EEEH? Stolen?"

The girl's distressed voice rose above the chatter of primary students, drawing at least a dozen curious young eyes in search of the cause of the distraction. In the back of the classroom, huddled around a desk, was the Shounen Tantei. One of the members, Ayumi, had been the source of the yell, and the attention garnered by her actions only succeeded in bringing a faint red blush to her cheeks and further the desire to melt into the floor and disappear. Genta and Mitsuhiko, the two boys of the group, quickly noticed the girl's growing distress. They moved with little hesitation to disperse the attention, whether through threats and intimidation—"Stop staring already!"—or through calm explanation—"She just misplaced it, it wasn't actually stolen."

Eventually the easily distracted children grew bored when no police came busting through the doors to catch the imaginary thief—while it wouldn't be as interesting, even a teacher showing up would have been fine—and turned back to their own friends and conversations, much to the relief of the objects of scrutiny. Ayumi let out a relieved sigh, sinking back in her chair like an empty bag of potatoes, "Is it really, Mitsuhiko?"

"Aa." The slightly nerdy looking boy nodded, returning his attention to the lump on the table, "I saw it on the news this morning before school."

In the center of the circle—well, more of a square—of kids sat the object that Ayumi had picked up earlier that morning. Finally uncovered and out from the darkened shadow of the building, she could see that it was indeed a jewel. It hadn't taken much to wipe away the dirt and bits of grass that were stuck to the glassy surface, revealing the dark, very dark, green coloration of the slightly oval shaped gem. At first she'd just believed that it was something from the gift shop inside the museum—one of her favored memories of the trip was of browsing through the replicas on sale in the souvenir store—but Mitsuhiko was unwavering in his proclamation that, sitting innocently on the desk in front of them, was the target of one of Japan's most annoying and slippery thieves to date.

She glanced around nervously, eyeing the other children scattered around the classroom. Had they seen? Did they know what It was? Was that why the teacher had stepped out? Was she going to bring the police back? Would they arrest her for having the—

"Aaah! I don't wanna go to jail!" A heavy, firm touch on her shoulder caused her tense frame to spasm and her arms to be thrown over her face in a defensive reaction, "Honestly officer, I didn't steal it!"

"Ayumi-chan…" She peeked over her arms to find Genta's concerned face, not the stern navy-clad police she'd been expecting. Her heart was pounding from her scare, and her uneasy laugh as she lowered her arms did nothing to reassure her friends, "Sorry Genta-kun, you scared me."

"You need to relax Ayumi." The only other girl in the group pushed away from the desk, the legs of her chair rubbing against the floor as it moved beneath her weight, "Just return it to the police and it'll be fine."

Ayumi looked up and met the brunette's stone grey eyes, as cool and calm as ever, and drew strength from her friend's unwavering personality. Of course it would be fine, if Haibara said it would be, it would be. Haibara Ai was the most intelligent of the group, even more so than Conan, and she would know what best to do in this situation. There were few times when Haibara had lost control enough to let them color her judgment, very few times. Ayumi was sure that if someone hung her over a pit of hungry pit of sharks the tea-haired girl would only comment curiously on how little they'd eaten to seem so hungry, rather than start panicking because she was about to be eaten. Ayumi was taking strength from this aspect of her friend, but no matter how much support she got from them she just…

"I can't…" The girl reached over the desk, folding the tissue over the jewel and picking it up. She let it lay in her palm, just feeling the weight in her hand and looking down on the covered shape. Covered like this, one could hardly tell it was a stone worth far more than most people would ever make in their lifetimes. Nor that it was probably the most recognizable jewel because of Kaitou Kid's theft. She shook her head, slipping it into the pocket of her jacket, "I can't take it to them."

Haibara just gave her a sidelong glance, one delicate eyebrow raising a minimal distance. She didn't comment on it, instead she rose from her seat, turning away and stretching her arms a little, "Then take it to Edogawa-kun." The comment was almost an after thought, as she tilted her head a little to keep the other girl in her sights, "He'll find something to do with it, I suppose."

Ayumi mulled over the suggestion as the Shounen-Tantei broke up and each returned to their seats as the bell rang, signaling the end of free period. She was forced to put it aside when Sensei returned, readying to begin the lesson, but she made a promise to think on it later.

-

Kaito was used to the unusual, but there were some things that just crossed the line of 'weird' to 'Weird'. 'weird' would be seeing Akako in an outfit that reminded him of some sort of Egyptian queen. 'Weird' would be seeing Akako in an outfit that reminded him of an Egyptian queen _at school_. Seriously, the last time she dressed like that she tried some weird sort of voodoo on him, so sue him for being just the slightest bit weirded out and wary.

He slowly, cautiously approached the table she'd set up in front of the school, threading his way through the crowd of spell-bound males that milled around it. Her hold over the male population was strong enough in normal clothes, but apparently the new ensemble reduced their resistance to almost nothing. It was sad really.

She looked up when he approached, her eyes zeroing in on his body without any signal or sound from him. A wispy touch brushed against his mind, much like the faint smell of an alluring perfurme, but he brushed it off with little trouble. Really, you'd think Akako would figure out that he was _not_ interested and would quit trying to force him to join her harem.

"What are you doing?" His voice only showed mild curiosity, and none of the unease that was winding his nerves to the fraying point. He scanned the top of the cloth covered table, taking in the various objects lain out along it. A deck of cards, a crystal ball, and some other odd and slightly disturbing items—was that a shrunken head?

"Fortune telling." The self proclaimed witch shuffled the deck of cards smoothly, slender hands easily showing prior experience with the act. A meticulously shaped eyebrow quirked in amusement, "Is there a problem Kuroba-san?"

"No, just curious." He turned to leave, but was stopped by the long-haired girl's sudden question.

"Have you ever played detective, Thief-san?" The last word and honorific were spoken at a lower volume, but Kaito caught it easily.

"No." What did she mean by that? Anyway, he'd never played detective before. Played _with_ detectives, yes, but never had he taken up the role himself. Well, that wasn't entirely true. He was trying to discover who exactly was behind the people who killed his father, but he wasn't going about it in an overly detective-like manner.

Akako gave him a mysterious smile, as if amused by some tidbit of information he was not privy to. She stopped shuffling the deck, pulling the top card off the top and handing it to him without looking, "I'd suggest you get used to it."

He turned the face down card over in his hands, staring at the Ace of Spades. What was that supposed to mean? When he asked her that she just laughed and waved her finger at him, "Ah ah, that is something for you to figure out."

He glanced down at the card again, before stuffing it in his pocket and diving back into the crowd again. He could see Aoko by the gate, she was waiting for him.

-

A/N: Wow, chapters are going pretty fast now. I wonder how long this will last…

Thanks again to Hittocere-Battosai for beta'ing and just overall prodding. Maybe that's why I'm getting so much done…

For those of you who want to know what's up with Conan, you'll just have to wait. It's a se-cret n.n

Hope you enjoyed it, and don't forget to drop a review(it might also be the reviews…so many for the few days it's been up)

Off to Luck or Fire, Dreams, and Twilight. Dunno which I'll work on next.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Six months…Six months since it started. It had taken two to figure out that something was wrong, and then another month to confirm it. It had been another three since he'd actively begun searching, getting his 'parents' to pull him out of school and into a correspondence type program to maximize his time. But three months had been too late. All the leads were cold, the information out dated. Of course, that didn't mean he didn't try everything, he'd even roped Hattori into checking around his area. But the news was the same, no sign, no sound, no luck.

Conan pushed himself away from the computer, ignoring the weird look he was receiving from Mouri. It didn't matter if the drunk saw him, he'd probably pass it off as some weird alcohol induced daydream. Even if he didn't, he highly doubted the adult would connect his unchild-like behavior to a certain teenaged detective. The only one who could, Ran, wasn't around so he was pretty safe.

The little fact that he was finding it harder to care about his secret identity also factored into his behavior. He'd adopted his name to protect, what was the point when the protectee was out of his reach?

"Yoookooo-chaaan" Mouri's drunken croon drifted across the room, and Conan glanced his way only to find the supposed 'meitantei' dancing with an imaginary Okino Yoko by the agencies' windows. He briefly toyed with the idea of shoving the dazed Kogorou into a closet or something—maybe out the window would work—but reluctantly dismissed the idea. No matter how annoying, he _was_ Ran's father. Although he'd often doubted that little fact, how had that wreck of a man sired such a strong girl like Ran, anyway. It was probably all Eri's doing, it would make sense for her traits to dominate the stupidity Kogorou seemed to be afflicted with.

He turned away from the sad sight; Mouri had progressed from dancing to kissing, and grabbed his skateboard from where he'd leaned it against the wall. He was going to go out looking again. A quick glance at the clock confirmed his guess; school had just gotten out about 10 minutes ago. One problem with his correspondence program was that it was hard to go out searching during school hours without being picked up by a truant officer or a well-meaning citizen.

Then again, with school out he also had a few minor distractions loose as well. He had to suppress a groan as he reached the door, 4 of those distractions were currently outside the agency.

"Conan-kun!" Ayumi—the real leader of the Detective Boys—lit up the second the door opened, her smile filled with relief and joy at seeing him again. It sent a brief pang of guilt fluttering through his stomach; he had to admit he'd been ignoring the children since he'd gotten himself pulled out of school. It wasn't that he didn't like hanging out with them—it was actually quite refreshing when he needed to just forget about everything that had happened to him.

But…he didn't really have time for that now. Plus he didn't have the patience or the focus to keep up his act around them. His hand tightened around his skateboard, "Sorry Ayumi, but I'm busy right now."

The girl looked crestfallen at his casual dismissal, prompting Mistuhiko and Genta to rise to her defense. "You always say that!" Genta accused, drawing up his stocky body to tower over the diminutive boy, "You never want to hang out with us anymore!"

"Yeah!" Mitsuhiko piped up, trying—and failing—to look intimidating. Next to Genta, he just looked like an angry stick. Not that Conan had ever seen an angry stick, but the description was the first to come to mind, "You hardly even speak to us anymore."

"It's alright guys…" Ayumi's quiet voice quelled the looming storm, drawing the three sets of to her. Unshed tears glittered at the corner of her eyes, but they were not from Conan's dismissal. No, they were from the fighting between her friends. "Conan-kun has something important to do, we shouldn't keep him."

"I came to give you this." She reached into her pocket, pulling out the covered lump that had been nagging at her thoughts all day. Her small hands cupped it, holding it out for Conan to take, "I found it this morning…can you give it to Mouri-san?"

Conan, feeling guilt worming its way around his heart, couldn't have rejecting the request even if he wanted to. He flicked back the corner of the tissue, eyes widening behind the square glasses as he quickly recognized the target of Kid's latest heist. He sort of understood Ayumi's hesitation to bring it forward herself, police officers—unless they were The Officers—would not be likely to believe a kid had found a priceless jewel. But…despite that…he glanced back through the door, faintly hearing Mouri's croons through the closed bathroom door. He really didn't want to know what was going on in there. Turning back to the Detective Boys, he nodded as he placed the stone in the pocket of his sweater, "I will…later guys."

Genta huffed as the boy ran off, crossing his arms over his already broad chest, "That guy…What can be more important than his friends?"

"There are many things, Genta-kun." It was Haibara who answered, the tea-haired girl speaking for the first time since leaving school. Her stone grey eyes were watching the stairwell that Conan had disappeared down, "Life perhaps…or maybe love…"

"Che." The self proclaimed leader blew out a breath of air between clenched teeth, stuffing his hands in his pockets, "I don't understand it at all."

"One day, Genta-kun…" To his surprise, it wasn't Haibara who responded, but Ayumi, "You'll understand one day."

--

It was a weekly event, every week Aoko would drag Kaito out of the house, claiming that he needed to get some fresh air. Of course, he would always argue back that a movie theater was not the best place to get fresh air, what with the mass of people stuffed in one room along with the buttery smell of popcorn and spilt soda that always permeated the air, but it wasn't as if he was really against going with her. It was a nice tidbit of normality that his life had been sorely lacking in since he'd taken up his father's mantle.

He drew the line at watching chick flicks though. If it didn't have lots of explosions, high speed vehicle chases, or some sort of battle he just wasn't interested. Many were the times that the Inspector's daughter had tried to coerce, bribe, or even intimidate him into watching the random romance movie of the week, and every time he stood his ground and forced her to go see them with one of her girl friends. Kaito might be slightly more malleable when it came to Nakamori Aoko's wishes, but there were some things that he just would not do, even childhood friends had limits.

Currently he was in line at the box-office, queuing up for the latest sci-fi film to hit the theater. It looked semi-interesting, alien space fights and conquering worlds, but it wasn't really something that he just _had_ to see. As it was, the theater was doing a special romance highlight, so the majority of the films were for the type he would not, under any circumstances, catch himself dead watching. Aoko was standing next to him, pouting in her own tough, tomboy-ish manner because she'd been unable to persuade him into watching the movie she wanted to see. At the moment, she was pretending that she had no association with him, but Kaito knew that the attitude would change the minute it came time to pay for the tickets and concessions.

The part-time thief pulled out his wallet, counting out the amount he would need once the next few people left the box office. He liked to be one of the people to get up there, pay, and then leave rather than be one of those who took a few minutes shifting through purses or pockets in search of the right amount of change. Something fell out of his wallet as he counted out the money, eliciting a soft "Eh?" as his eyes watched it flutter toward the ground.

Aoko lost all pretenses of ignoring him, turning on him as she realized just what had fallen, "Kaito! I told you not to bring any of your tricks to the theater!"

"I didn't know it was in there!" The thief protested in his defense, truly innocent for once. He had no idea why a playing card had been in his wallet, he had even left his card gun at home to abide by Aoko's rules—it wasn't often he went anywhere without it, but Aoko had been insistent in the movie nights being magic-less and normal. He grumbled to himself about being set up and handed Aoko the money to hold on to, kneeling down to examine the escaping card.

Surprisingly it had landed face up, giving Kaito an easy view of the uniquely stylized spade set in the center. It wasn't from any of his decks, and it took him a few moments to realize that he was looking at the card he'd received along with Akako's weird attempt at fortune telling. That was strange; he could have sworn he'd left that on his desk at home, not in his wallet.

The point of the spade was pointing away from him, out toward the street and the sidewalk that was full of milling people. His eyes unconsciously followed the path, and it was a good thing too. If he hadn't, he might have missed it entirely.

Directly in front of the card was a small space in the crowd, he could see clear across the road from his vantage point. Hurtling down the nearly empty sidewalk was someone that had preoccupied a greater portion of his thoughts that day, sneakered foot resting just off to the side of the turbo switch that Kaito _knew _was on the skateboard. It took him another moment to realize just exactly who had driven by, and all thoughts of the movie were forgotten.

"Kaito? Hurry up, it's our turn!"

He straightened, pulling a ball cap out of nowhere and placing it on his head, "Sorry Aoko, I just remembered something. I'll need to take a rain check tonight!"

With a cheery grin and a jaunty wave Kaito set off through the crowd, calling back, "Maybe you can go see that other movie now"

Aoko's face was turning red as she watched him leave, puffing her cheeks with indignation. She couldn't help the fury that was building up, but quickly clamped down on it to keep from bursting out in such a public place. He might actually have a legitimate reason—she doubted it, but there was a slim possibility. She'd give him a chance to explain himself before pulling out the big guns. "Boys." She scoffed, stomping up to the clerk and slamming the money down on the little ledge, "One adult ticket for the special."

"I hear you honey." The clerk's airy female voice drifted through the glass as she collected the money, counted it, and then returned the ticket in exchange, "But there's not much you can do about them. It's part of their charm."

Unfortunately, Aoko knew that little fact all too well, and it did nothing to appease her as she stalked into the cool, dark movie theater. This hadn't been the first time she'd been ditched, nor would it be the last, but that did not mean she would let him get away with it without retribution. She got in line for popcorn and a small bottle of water and the gears in her mind slowly began to turn as she began to devise a suitable punishment for her errant magician.

A couple blocks down the road, Kaito felt a strange feeling of foreboding.

A/N: Masq done! That means I've caught up with Luck(for the moment anyway, as soon as I post ch 4 for it it'll be behind again). Some of you might be able to guess what Conan's problem is, but I'm gonna try and avoid saying it directly until Kaito finds out himself. After that, we get to learn _why_ I called this fic Masquerade and just what Kaito's 'unorthodox solution' is. Cheers

Reviews? Please?


	4. Chapter 4

Conan sat on a park bench, taking a moment to catch his breath. He was slightly winded from his comb of the nearby area, and needed a few minutes to assimilate it all. Not that there was much to assimilate.

Who was he kidding? It'd been six months! There was very little chance of anyone remembering that far back, and even less for evidence to remain. Maybe if he'd gotten started a little sooner, he would have caught the trail.

As it was, he had nothing. Nada. Zip. Even with the police's help, it was as if they'd disappeared off the face of the earth.

He let out a frustrated sigh, kicking his feet in the air as he leaned back against the wooden bench. It just…wasn't fair. Six months…Six months with no words beyond, "I'm leaving." No calls, no letters, not even an email.

He just wanted to know that everything was alright.

Conan was barely able to finish the thought when it suddenly went dark, a pair of hands quickly covering his eyes from behind and pushing his head against the wooden back of the bench. He struggled for the first few moments, but his yelp of protest was strangled by the teasing, very familiar voice that asked the usual question.

"Guess who?"

He could have sworn his heart stopped beating for a few seconds—seconds that seemed to stretch on forever. "R—"

"I can't hear you." The laugh that accompanied the words seemed to echo from both sides, even though he knew it came from behind him, "Aww, come on Conan-kun. It isn't hard!"

"Ra—n" The word died before he finished the final syllable, the joy that had been welling up inside him screeching to a stop and falling away, replaced by anger. Now that he wasn't focusing on the voice, he could tell exactly what was wrong with the situation. The hands over his eyes were _not_ Ran's hands. "Kid!"

"Bingo!" Light flooded his senses, blinding him momentarily as his eyes sought to readjust. The pain didn't bother him though; it was nothing in comparison to the fury he carried for the thief behind him.

--

Feeling unusually pleased with Conan's deduction, Kaito let go of the smaller boy. He'd missed the little detective, he just hadn't quite realized just how much until now. Maybe he could find out where his Chibi-Holmes had disappeared to during the past couple months, "Not as sharp as usual, Tantei-kun." Kaito shook his head disappointedly; he'd expected Conan to notice the hands first, "Have you been slack—"

"Don't _ever_ use her voice again." The kid's body was trembling, his voice low but completely and utterly serious. The sheer intensity of the anger in the child's voice was completely unexpected, causing Kaito to take a cautious step away from the child, wary of suddenly finding a soccer ball flung at his face. He really hadn't expected that type of reaction. Annoyance he'd been prepared for, but not outright fury.

Conan jumped to his feet and stood on the bench, whirling around to face the not-so-disguised thief. Kaito was glad he'd stopped to pick up a cheap pair of sunglasses to go with his hat, the intensity of Conan's scrutiny would have probably seen straight through the shadows Kaito usually used to shield his face. "What do you want, Kid?"

"I just wanted to see my favorite detective." Kaito was really wishing he'd had a better disguise with him, but he supposed he did the best he could with what he had. There were times he really hated Aoko's insistence on leaving _all_ of his tricks behind, "I've been wondering why he hasn't shown up to critique me."

"I'm not like Nakamori; I'm not going to follow you around like a little puppy." Conan crossed his arms, the added height of the bench leaving him at about Kaito's shoulder, "What's your real reason?"

"Do I really need one?" Kaito had to resist the urge to just lean forward and poke Conan on the nose, but he knew that doing so was just asking for either the dart watch or the power shoes, "I came to you without a disguise, Tantei-kun. Nothing between you and me but a pair of cheap glasses."

He could see the disbelief that nearly radiated from Conan's posture, his eyes narrowing behind square-framed glasses, accusing him of lying. "I don't believe you, Mr. Thief."

Kaito shrugged dismissively, waiting for him to rise to the bait, "Whether you believe, or not, it's the truth. It was pure chance I saw you from the theater. So…" He took a step toward the bench, resting his elbows on the back-rest and leaning over until his nose was mere inches from Conan's, "Are you going to try and unmask me, Tantei-kun? You swore you would."

The boy didn't flinch at the close proximity, his eyes seeking out and capturing Kaito's despite the glasses. He reached up, and Kaito readied himself to pull away the second the small fingers were in range, only to find himself roughly shoved away. Kaito reeled from the surprise, looking down at the child to find him stuffing his hand into his pocket. Conan's eyes were hidden by the glare off his glasses, his expression unreadable as the child detective turned away, "No."

Dumbfounded. Flabbergasted. Thunderstruck. Taken aback. None of the adjectives could quite describe the level of shock he felt, not to mention the blow it sent to his self-confidence and his ego. He kept remembering every time he'd squared off against the Chibi-Holmes. Each time he'd reaffirm the vow he'd made during one of their first meetings, the first time he'd sworn to catch and unmask the elusive Kaitou. Here he was, mere inches away from fulfilling the vow, and Conan decided to push it away?

Something really wasn't right here.

Conan hopped off the bench, his hand knocking over his skateboard so it landed with its wheels against the ground, "Sorry Kid, but I really don't care about you right now."

The kid jumped on the skateboard and pressed his foot down on the turbo switch, miraculously maintaining his balance as the skateboard accelerated from zero to fifty in less than three seconds.

There was definitely something wrong, and he felt a nervous itch to figure out what it was. If he didn't, he might never get his little detective back on the job.

_Playing detective huh…Maybe Akako was right._

Something glittered as he moved, his shadow shifting off of something that had been left sitting on the bench. He reached over and picked the cloth covered object up, holding it up to the sun as the tissue slid down around his fingers, "Hello again…"

In his hand was the jewel he'd just stolen, a jewel he'd believed had been returned to police hands when he'd lost it last night. Apparently it hadn't, otherwise Tantei-kun wouldn't bother returning it to him. Speaking of Tantei-kun…he glanced in the direction the boy had taken off, how had he happened by it anyway? As far as he knew, the detective hadn't been anywhere near the heist.

"Curious…" He let his voice drop out of Kid's normal sound, returning to his true voice. He wasn't stupid enough to use his real voice as an internationally famous criminal who was often caught on tape—both video and audio. It was similar, but Kid's had an airy quality to it that warped the sound, and he often changed around the way he pronounced things. Kaito rewrapped the jewel, placing it in his jacket pocket.

Kaito sighed as he noticed a small stain on his white jacket and shrugged it off, folding it inside out so that it was black on the outside, white on the inside. A small smile crept along his face, pushing aside the troubled thoughts that were dancing through his head from his meeting with Conan. Reversible clothes weren't really considered tricks, and as of so far had slipped under Aoko's radar. They didn't look like they were inside out, they were made not to.

_Aoko…_

Well, he couldn't really return to the movie now, she'd be pretty mad at him for ditching her like that. Hopefully she'd cool down by tomorrow and he could offer up some sort of credible sounding excuse to placate her. Even if that didn't work, he could handle anything she threw at him.

Except the f…f…those things. But he didn't think she was that cruel.

Kaito pulled off his cap and glasses, running a hand through his hair to remove any traces of hat hair and returning the spikes to their normal wild mess. There wasn't really a point to the disguise anymore. He then stuffed the remains of his disguise into one of the many (now)inside pockets of his jacket and started off down the path Conan had disappeared down.

--

Conan had to admit; zero to fifty was a little overboard to go less than a quarter of a mile. At the time, he hadn't really cared; he just wanted to get away from Kid as fast as possible. He'd finally slowed down and stopped the mad escape less than two minutes after starting—as soon as he realized that he had nowhere to go.

He was near one of the park's fountains when the thought finally hit him. He had no leads, no more sources of information he hadn't picked dry. The only thing he had any hope left in was the police, and he'd already checked with them today. Only a few hours and his search had hit a brick wall, leaving him empty handed.

With a resigned sigh he stepped off the skateboard, leaning it against the rim of the fountain and sitting down on the stone edge. There were a couple others in this section of the park—mostly surrounding the ice-cream cart along the edge of the path—but he only received a curious look or two. It wasn't because he wasn't with a parent—the park was considered safe enough to let children play while the adults wandered about and chatted—but was because he was by himself. Normally children traveled in packs.

Conan let his fingertips just barely brush the surprisingly clean water as he thought back to the confrontation, anything to keep his mind off of his seemingly fruitless search. What the hell had that just been about? A city park was the last place he'd expected to run into that thief. What was he up to? There was no way; _no way_ Kaitou Kid just walk up to him in such a flimsy disguise without having some devious plan in mind.

Devious plans were something that he made a mental note to avoid in the future, especially if they were concocted by a thief magician who always seemed to be two steps ahead of the world. He had enough on his plate as it was; he didn't need to be worrying about whatever Kid was scheming on top of it. He didn't even care about what the Kid was planning.

Conan hadn't missed the utterly floored expression that his admittance had elicited; in fact it had been his intended reaction. He needed something to distract the thief and keep him that way until Conan was able to get out of sight. The fact that he'd left the jewel behind had also been a delaying tactic, but this way he didn't have to confront Kogorou with it, so it was helping him in the end—he trusted Kid's professional pride to return it eventually.

One thing out of the way…Conan's hand rose from the water, his damp fingertips chilly in the autumn air as he kneaded his temple—an attempt to stave off the impending headache. He still had at least one more thing. It was 'at least' because he didn't know just how much he'd have to do to find the answer.

His eyes drifted to the surface of the water, his reflection distorted by the constant motion of the fountain. If he let his mind wander enough, he could imagine another reflection next to his, one that he wished sorely was really there.

_Where are you…?_

The wavering phantom reflection was getting a little clearer with each step his mind took away from reality. He knew exactly how Ran had felt since he'd stumbled across Gin and Vodka that day at the amusement park. Constantly wondering where the other was, and wondering if they were safe, if they were happy. At least he _called_!

"_I'm leaving."_

There hadn't even been a letter. Not one.

"_I promise I'll write, Conan-kun."_

_...liar._

His thoughts skidded to a halt, tossed back into reality with the force of a train crash.

_That reflection…_

…_isn't Ran._

"Yo, kid. You're looking a little down." Conan turned around, meeting face to face with the reflection in the water. Because of the constant ripples he hadn't been able to get a good look at it; he only knew that it wasn't part of his imagination. That one had been like looking into a mirror, completely still and clear.

The person towered over him, clear blue eyes looking down at him from beneath a messy mop of brown hair. A smile crossed his face at being noticed, and the teenager(late teens, if Conan's guess was correct) sat down on the cobblestone path at the base of the fountain, "I've seen you here before, but never alone. What's the matter?"

Because of the positioning, Conan was easily able to meet his eyes. It was an unfamiliar act; usually he had to crane his neck to see anyone his real age. It felt a little reassuring even as it surprised him. Conan was quiet for a moment after the question, debating whether to answer.

"Don't be like that…" The elder boy took his silence as a rejection, a thoughtful look drifting into being, "Well, at least there's one thing that always cheers people up!"

He held his hands in front of him and made an exaggerated gesture, resulting in a small puff of grey smoke to obscure his hands. The motion sent warning bells off in Conan's head, before he clamped down on the alarm and shushed it. The little run-in with Kid had really shaken him up, and now he was seeing the thief in every stranger that passed him by!

"Ice-cream!" The cloud had dissipated, leaving a small cone of vanilla ice-cream in his hands. He offered it to Conan, "I didn't know what kind you liked, so I figured vanilla would be safe."

The detective eyed the frozen treat, accepting it, but not quite willing to eat it yet. The piece of paper wrapped around the waffle cone had the same logo as the park's ice-cream carts, he could have gotten it from the one just down the path, "It is fall…"

"So?" He shrugged off the implication that ice-cream was out of season, "Ice-cream is always good, even when it's freezing outside."

Conan still wasn't willing to eat something from a complete stranger. Apparently the other could read it on his face because he sighed, frustrated, and pulled out a plastic spoon. With a small motion he scooped a small section out of the treat, and ate it. "Satisfied? It won't kill ya."

Conan shrugged; he was satisfied, and started on the treat. After a few cursory licks, he paused, "Why do you bother?"

"I don't like seeing people down." Conan tensed a little, waiting for the inevitable ruffling of his hair that was sure to come. He was surprised when it didn't; indeed the teenager's hands were busy fiddling with a napkin—tearing it to pieces. "Especially kids. It makes me feel like I've failed or something."

He stuffed the pieces of the paper into his fist, before opening his hands to reveal a fully restored napkin. "As a magician, it's kinda my job to make people smile, ya know?"

Conan just quietly ate his treat, watching as his hands started moving again. The paper was crumbled up, and hidden in between cupped hands, "You just looked kinda lost over here, so I wanted to try and cheer you up."

"Not lost." Conan shook his head, "But I am looking for something."

"Oh?"

Conan shrugged, ice-cream or not, he was not going to burden the stranger with something he couldn't help with. From what he had already learned about the teenager, he could already tell that he would offer to help. The frozen treat was almost gone by now, only a little bit of the cone left, "…thank you."

"No problem." The teenager smiled, "I'm Kuroba Kaito, amateur magician."

"Edogawa Conan, detective."

A/N: Quick update cause I wanted to catch Masq up to Luck. The chapter is slightly longer than usual, but that's a good thing right? I had a bit of trouble coming up with the parts after Kid got the jewel back...but eventually decided (with help) that KaixConan interaction was needed.

I'm almost positive people will be able to guess who he's looking for --; it is kinda obvious.

Hope you enjoyed the chapter, and until next time!

P.S. Reviews are nice n.n


	5. Chapter 5

A perfectly manicured nail traced the end of the paper, the sheet spread out on the counter before her. The pristine white—ignoring the neat black script, of course—was tinted oddly by the faint light source from above; the faint grey of the many TV monitors easily illuminated the words, even with the ever-present dimness of the room.

"_Dear Conan-kun…_

_I'm so glad things are going well at home, I was afraid Dad would freak out when I suddenly left like that. I'm really sorry about that, by the way, but I didn't have much notice about the offer—Mom just suddenly called me up and explained it, telling me to get my stuff ready for the interview. I didn't want to tell you and dad about it, I was afraid of coming back after being turned down. As you can easily see, I got in! I've had so much fun here…"_

Perfect lips twisted into a faint smile at the letter, marveling over how the empty black words still managed to portray the life and energy of the one who wrote them. It was really a shame; it would never be read by the intended recipient. It would interfere with her little experiment, and that would never do.

Blue eyes shifted to the monitors set into the wall, searching out a specific one. It was just about time for the subject to return home. The picture flickered every now and then—it was a live broadcast over hundreds, if not a thousand miles—but the scene remained clear, the front hallway of a home, doors branching off to other rooms and a set of stairs leading up. Other monitors along the wall covered those rooms, but she wasn't interested in them.

Her imagination filled in the sound of the door swinging open and the sound of soft footsteps across the wood floor. A black haired head finally appeared in the camera's view, bowed as he kicked off his shoes, as if a heavy weight was on his shoulders. From the angle, she could barely see his face, and her smiled only became clearer as she noticed the exhausted set to the subject's body, there even seemed to be a nice amount of anger and frustration if she was reading him correctly.

"Perfect."

She watched as the subject for her experiment stuffed something in his pocket, whirling around and slamming his fist against the wall. There was barely any force behind the blow; it didn't even make enough noise to attract the attention of the adult in the next room. After nursing the result of his own frustration, the child stormed upstairs. She followed his path along the many monitors before he disappeared into one of the few rooms she didn't have coverage of. But that was fine; she was satisfied with her observations.

Slender hands flipped over the letter, taking a pen and making notes on the back.

'_Prolonged effects of the removal continue to grow in intensity. Subject seems to be tired all the time, and after returning from the fruitless searches continually shows signs of ever-present anger, and increasingly destructive behavior. The behavior is predicted to worsen until the target is found, or it turns self-destructive.'_

"It seems that without the Angel's divine presence, the silver bullet is nothing but cheap lead." Chris Vineyard—known to a few select individuals as Vermouth, and even fewer as Sharon Vineyard—commented to herself, amused at the idea. She pulled out another sheet of paper, completely covering her notes, and began to draft a return letter. Her handwriting shifting from angular and precise, to neat, yet slightly childish scribbles.

"_Nee-chan,_

_Occhan did go crazy (and drunk) for a while_, _but he calmed down after we got your first letter. You'll never guess what happened today! Mitsuhiko and Genta got into a fight! The funny thing was that it was over Ayumi's half finished soda. The fact that Genta won is kinda obvious…"_

It wouldn't due to get the Angel worried. Vermouth glanced at one of the monitors in the corner, showing a girl lying down on a bed, reading book serenely. No, it wouldn't do at all.

--

"Geez Aoko! Lighten up a little will ya?" Kuroba Kaito dodged his pursuer's weapon, the classroom's mop whizzing just above his head as he rolled out of the way. "Neither of us really wanted to see that movie anyway."

"That's not the point!" She yelled at him, swiping the cleaning implement as he jumped away, landing agilely on a classmate's desk—much to the horror of said classmate, they were now inevitably in the line of fire. The poor unlucky guy dove underneath the wooden structure just as Aoko vaulted over his chair, continuing the ritual of cat and mouse that happened nearly every morning for one reason or another. They were so routine that the teacher had made no reaction to it—beyond the usual resigned eye-twitch of course. The class usually just continued on around it, only the students who were unlucky enough to get in the way were distracted from the lesson. The participants didn't really have to worry either, every time the teacher quizzed them during the chase it took minimal brain power to answer.

All in all, it was a normal day at Ekota High school.

"Then what is the point, A-chan?" The different nickname caused the mop-wielding warrior to falter, but it was only a momentary reprieve for the agile magician. He was currently taking shelter on top of one of the bookcases, but despite his position he could no relax. While Aoko couldn't leap entire bookshelves in a single bound, the added reach awarded by the mop-of-doom could still whack him. "I gave you my excuse, but you don't care too much for it, by the looks of things."

"The point?" Aoko put her hands on her hips, her smoldering glare trying to fry the magician by vision alone, "You ditched me, you jerk. That is the point. You don't ditch a girl seconds before getting tickets!'

A few of the girls twittered in sympathy for Aoko's situation, but the conversation was largely ignored by the students. They'd learned early on that if they wanted to pass the class they'd have to learn to tune out the two. Not everyone had the ability to work out algebra while avoiding a mop wielding Aoko or chasing a slippery Kaito.

"I left you the money, didn't I?" Kaito was forced to scoot a couple inches along the top of the bookshelf, avoiding the pencil case Aoko had just thrown at his head, "I really don't see the big deal."

"You…You…" Aoko couldn't even form the words, and Kaito felt a faint sense of unease tingling along his spine. Why did it feel like there was impending doom? He braced himself, ready and waiting to spring off the wooden storage unit at the first sign of Aoko bringing out the big guns. She didn't know it, but he _knew_ she carried that stuffed f…f…that thing in her book bag. She'd even managed to pull it out when she didn't have her bag.

But she didn't reach for her bag, or even behind her back. She just stood there, holding the mop in a white knuckled grip, the cleaning instrument trembling with her entire body. At first Kaito was sure she was trying to lure him into a false sense of security, or that it was all an act to get him to come down from his dubious sanctuary, but that was until he saw the light reflecting on something small and wet.

"Oi!" He leapt off the shelving unit without another hesitation, landing gently on a desk behind Aoko—the occupant quickly vacating the premises and diving for cover. He squatted down so that they would be at eye-level and put his hands on her shoulders, turning her around to face him square in the eyes. He absolutely hated it when she cried. "Don't cry, pleeeaaasse don't cry."

Aoko barely responded to both his touch and his words, her face shadowed by her bangs as another tear slipped down. Kaito repeated his plea, and the only response he got was a sharp intake of breath from the girl, a tightening of the muscles in her jaw. If he hadn't been so worried over the impending tears, he would have noticed the warning signs. As it was he was a little distracted, and didn't see the punch coming until he was sent flying off the desk top, crashing into a few other desks and knocking over more than one person before impacting with the hard floor.

"Kaito…" Her voice cracked, and anyone in the class could see the pain in her face, "I hate you."

After that she turned and fled, running out of the classroom after getting silent permission from the teacher. The lesson had been forgotten by teacher and student alike, all eyes turned to the magician sprawled on the floor, holding a hand gently to a rapidly appearing black eye. His good eye flickered to the teacher, and he received the same nod she'd given to Aoko, only this time there were words to it, "Go after her, Kuroba. Then report to the nurse for some ice."

Kaito nodded and scrambled to his feet. A couple of the students scrambled out of his way—they'd gotten up to fix the skewed desks and try and return some order to the room—and he was just about out the door before the teacher spoke again.

"Oh, and Kuroba? Friday afternoon. Detention. Tell Nakamori."

Only those nearest to the door could hear the resigned groan as the door swung shut.

--

Conan sat in front of the computer, tapping away at the keyboard as he went over all of the information he'd gathered so far, or failed to gather as the case may be. He was currently scrolling through the list of dead ends, looking for something he may have missed. He'd checked with Kisaki-obaachan, no luck. Suzuki Sonoko didn't have any ideas either, nor had any of her other friends. He'd gotten a hold of Hattori and Kazuha, but neither had heard from the girl since the last time they'd visited Osaka. That ruled out a surprise visit to the duo. He'd gotten the police to look into the train passengers and circle Ran's description with departments in other areas of Japan (discretely of course, either using Shinichi's voice or Mouri's depending on the situation) but there hadn't been any response with that strategy either.

He sighed irritably and let his head fall against the keyboard, sending the computer screen haywire from the random input. Small hands rose to tangle themselves in his hair, tugging gently and then increasingly harder at the black strands. What was he missing?

His glasses lay discarded to the side of the keyboard, seeing to need to keep them on when he had no danger of Ran walking into the room. There was a chance of Mouri doing so, but the man was currently passed out in his bedroom upstairs—the detective's condition had been degenerating without his daughter around to keep him in check. Conan had tried in the beginning, but had given up eventually. There was only so much he could do.

Conan picked up his head, rubbing out the faint indents the keys had left in his cheek before returning to the files. It should have been impossible for such an open girl like Ran to just disappear like that, people generally remembered 'meitantei' Mouri Kogorou's daughter. Despite her insistence that she was nothing but an ordinary girl, Ran always had a tendency of leaving behind a good impression. It was just the way she was.

There was also the fact that Ran would never leave her father in the dark for so long, whenever she'd gone on trips before she would always call daily, reminding him that beer was not part of the five necessary food groups. Conan—Shinichi, rather—knew that better than anyone, he distinctly remembered the calls from some of the trips they had taken together. Even when they'd been in America visiting his parents she'd still managed to call, taking into account the huge time difference between New York and Tokyo.

He paused the thought, a new possibility forming in mind as he remembered the overseas trips. His eyes also focused on the computer screen, or more specifically on the pop-up that his inattention had allowed to appear in the window. The flashing multicolored letters weren't what drew his attention; instead it was the picture of an airplane in flight, emblazoned across the otherwise grey backing.

He hadn't even considered the possibility that she would have left the country.

With a new place to look—even with the possibility of finding anything being almost nill—he grabbed his glasses and set them carelessly on his nose, only thinking to quickly save his files and shut the windows before taking off again. He had a meeting with someone from the Tokyo Police Department.

A/N: Not as long as my latest chapters, but meh. It seemed like a good stopping point.

I originally wasn't going to include the first part, but I figured I might as well throw in something to explain Ran's silence. Vermouth is kinda interesting…it seems like she truly doesn't have any side except for her own.

Oh, before I forget, the way things are turning out in my planning; this may end with being only one sided KaitoxConan. It depends on where I decide to end the story and/or if I decide to write a sequel.

Thanks for sticking with me through the rather slow moving (or at least I think it is) story, and I hope you enjoyed it!


	6. Chapter 6

There wasn't much of a doubt in his mind as to where to look. They'd had their little spats before—she'd never actually hit him hard enough to cause bruising, that was a new development—and every time she would retreat to the same place. Looking back on it, it was a very obvious place, stereotypical if you will. It was used over and over in anime and manga as a make-up spot after a fight, especially in a school setting. In fact, he was almost positive that she'd gotten the idea from some anime. Not that he was complaining, it was rather out of the way and despite his attention seeking attitude, he'd rather not have an audience.

Kaito took a breath before pushing open the door leading to the school's roof. It was never locked, a bunch of kids used it as a lunch spot and falling wasn't really an issue with the large chain-link fence that ran along the edge. He shielded his eyes from the sudden onslaught of sunlight; the afternoon sun was shifting closer to the horizon, angling the light almost directly through the open door.

Through squinted eyes he could see her as a black splotch against the fence, just as he always did. Head bowed, forehead resting against the cold chain link, Aoko didn't move when the door closed behind Kaito, settling with a soft thump and click into its frame. The thief cleared his throat awkwardly, a hand rising to scratch his head nervously. For the first time in a while, words failed him. Normally he was good at smoothing over these bumps, a distracting trick, and a few simple apologies and promises would charm Aoko into a euphoria that would last for days. But, that only worked when he understood why she was upset. Kaito was running blind, and even his witty charm had failed him.

"…We have detention."

A lame start, he hadn't even been thinking when they slipped out, like a f…f—those things—through a loose net. It caught her attention though, the dark-head shifting a little, and a strangely hollow voice answered, "Oh?"

"Yeah, Friday." Kaito took a breath, weighing what he was going to say now that he had her attention, "Listen Aoko—"

"We never were anything?" Aoko interrupted him as if he'd never been speaking. Her fingers threaded into the fence's links, closing around the metal wires. After a long pause, she was waiting for him to answer and he was trying to figure out what she was talking about, she laughed a little and looked over her shoulder. Still wet tears glistened in the corners of her eyes, and the long black strands of her hair seemed even wilder than usual, "Right?"

"Eh?" Kaito never was good with understanding girl language, or even teenage language. It was one of the reasons he used his own style, and did most of the talking. Eventually he did pull out a meaning from her words, but something nagged at him, as if it wasn't right, "No! We're friends, stupid."

Aoko seemed to consider it, before her face turned a little red, quickly turning back to the fence and away from Kaito's slightly confused expression, "That's not—I mean—"

"Look, Aoko." Kaito decided to quit trying to puzzle over the unfathomable workings of a girl's mind—even a tomboy like he considered his friend at times—and try to fix things before he ended up saying something to make her pull out the f…those things. He'd often learned that her temper shorter and she was quicker to take offense a second time, "Whatever I said, I'm sorry for it. But it does not mean I'm not your friend!"

He strode purposefully up to her, throwing his arm over her shoulder in what he considered a companionable gesture, and what most would call a one armed hug, "I'll take you to Tropical Land to make up for it."

When she answered, he almost had to strain his ears to hear. He really didn't see why she was acting so weird—was it that time of the month? He knew women—or tomboys in this case—were supposed to act weird during that window of time. "As friends?"

"Of course!" He slapped on an easy grin, tightening his grip on her shoulder and pulling her away from the fence and back toward the door, "Now let's go back to class before we get detention on Monday too."

Aoko gave up, lifting an arm and wiping away the tearstains, accepting the inevitable that her heart really wished was nothing but a bad dream, "Okay."

--

"Officer…" The formal, monotone greeting buzzed over the phone line, "You have someone here to see you."

"Eeeh?" He cradled the phone in the crook between his shoulder and his neck, somehow managing to keep the cordless appliance from tumbling from the ground as he dug through the mess of his desk drawer, searching for the day planner that was currently lost within the pandemonium of messiness. His desk was unlike the majority of the department, in fact the top could be considered immaculate. Everything was neat and orderly, but the customary police messiness had to migrate somewhere, and that somewhere was currently impeding his search. "Who is it?"

His fingers curled around a small square object, leathery beneath his fingertips, and tried to fish it out, failing upon realizing that it was caught on something. He tried to shift around the surrounding junk as the secretary inquired about the visitor, but it was quite difficult since he was trying to keep the phone balanced on his shoulder—a feat that skewed his position quite a bit. He had just about worked it free when the monotone voice came over the line again—he couldn't believe it, she'd only been on the job a few days and she had the emotionless voice down perfectly—and her announcement made him forget his search momentarily.

"Ah, it's a kid named Edogawa Conan."

"Conan-kun?" The officer repeated, straightening up a little as he wondered what the kid wanted. He'd just been by earlier, and he knew that gathering information took time. Indeed, Conan seemed to know a lot more than what he let on, Officer Takagi knew that better than anyone on the force. Witnessing a primary school student disarm a completely real and utterly dangerous bomb without help (oh, he knew that the kid hadn't needed directions at all, he had worked far enough ahead of the bomb squad AND kept his cool while waiting for the final second's clue) tended to color one's perception of that individual even to the point that physical age was downgraded to a secondary factor. He still remembered Conan's answer to his question of "Who are you?", and hoped he'd get an answer before they met in the afterlife—he had no desire to die just to obtain an answer to an irrelevant (if extremely infuriating) question. "Send him up."

He hung up the phone after the secretary's confirmation, freeing up both hands to extract his notebook. He made short work of the vice that captured the bound book, fishing it out with a triumphant 'hah!'. The victory was short lived, as a single knock brought his mind back to his unexpected visitor, "Come on in!"

He straightened up from his previous slouching position, trying to look stern and professional as one in his postion was supposed to. He highly doubted it worked—he'd been practicing, but it didn't seem like his unassuming and boyish looks suited the image very well. Miyako had just laughed at the attempt, resulting in many embarrassing blushes—since the only reaction he got from the arrival was a quick eye-roll. He took that as a dismissal and in turn dropped the ridiculous air, "What do you need Conan-kun?"

The boy leaned his skateboard against the wall—often the police staff had tried to get him to leave it at the front desk, but to date there had been no luck—giving a light cough and he let the thin veil of childish-ness drop. It hadn't taken long for Takagi to notice that he didn't put as much effort into hiding his precociousness when it was just the two of them—perhaps it was because Conan knew that Takagi understood that there was more to him than the nosy brat who tagged along with Mouri Kogorou.

Conan pushed his glasses up to the bridge of his nose, tilting his head up so he could look at the officer's much taller frame, "I need you to look into something."

Ah, he knew why the kid was here now. Takagi let out an exasperated mental sigh, he really should had guessed it would have to do with Mouri Ran's disappearance. Conan had often been in his office, asking him to call in favors in other departments to try and discover her whereabouts. He had, partially because he was worried about the girl and partially to placate the distressed boy, but there wasn't much he could do at this point. "I'm sorry Conan-kun, I've done pretty much all I can do about Ran-san. I can't put any more of our resources into this case."

Conan was quiet for a moment, before shaking his small head, "I just want to suggest one more thing…If nothing comes up, I'll stop bothering you."

The air in the office was heavy, and Takagi wished he could do more. However, they were the homicide unit, missing persons was generally not their jurisdiction unless foul play was suspected. He'd already exhausted most of his usable connections in this private investigation, and he couldn't use the rest of them because it wasn't official police business. But under the near-pleading, but mostly frustrated gaze, he felt his resolve crumbling. "Alright…What is it?"

--

Conan was lost in thought as he rode his skateboard down the sidewalk, only his reflexes—honed by years of experience in soccer and dodging trigger-happy criminals—keeping him from sending some poor unfortunate soul tumbling to the pavement. Takagi had agreed to look into it, but any and all results would take a while to get back to him. On one hand, Conan understood that Takagi could get in trouble if the investigation began to compromise his attention to his normal work. On the other, he really needed reassurance and wanted the thrice be damned nervousness and fear to go away.

He snapped out of autopilot a few miles from the police station, having been stopped by a red-crossing light. One foot was resting on the ground, waiting and ready for the light to change color so that he could be on his way. He saw his surroundings for the first time since leaving the police station—what was he doing in the Ekota district?

He didn't kick his board into motion at the green walk light, remaining stationary as the sparse afternoon pedestrians milled around him and continued on their way—lost in their own worlds. Though the police station was near the edge of Baika district, he hadn't meant to completely cross the border and head into Ekota. It's not like it really mattered, he wasn't lost. He just couldn't believe he lost touch with his surroundings so much.

"Oi, kid!"

The gruff, commanding tone immediately caught his attention, since he was most likely the kid in question. He didn't know anyone from the Ekota district—not very well anyway—but there wasn't likely to be any other children out during school hours. He'd been in such a rush to get to the police station he hadn't considered the problems the time could cause him. As Conan turned around, he didn't know quite what to expect. The voice was male, and held the feel of someone used to giving orders and having them followed. It was also vaguely familiar, like a voice he had once heard fairly often but not recently. The reasoning behind the feeling was explained when he saw the tall, scruffy haired figure that made its way through the afternoon crowds. Everything about the man was familiar, from his short, untidy mustache to the lit cigarette held lightly in between his fingers. All in all, the image of Inspector Nakamori brought back memories, memories of the not-so distant past that included the various annoying, but entertaining contests held between thief and police. It was really starting to irritate him as to how everything kept leading back to a certain persistent white clothed thief. He hadn't seen the inspector since his last Kid heist—which has been well over a few months ago.

"Turning into a little ruffian are you?" To tell the truth, Nakamori's words surprised him. Conan had expected a demand as to why he was not in school, why he was so far from home, or something of a similar nature. What he received was a gruff, but teasing comment, and an invitation to join the rough-around the edges Inspector on his lunch break. After a moment of deliberation—along with some not-so-silent prodding from his stomach—Conan agreed to the request. In his hurry he'd forgotten to grab something to eat and he only had enough money for a snack, not a full meal, so in truth the encounter was welcomed with little resistance.

The next few minutes found them seated in a nice little coffee shop just a block down from the police station, Nakamori enjoying a nice warm cup of coffee and a bento box (hand packed by his daughter, Aoko of course. The man was not allowed in the kitchen since an incident that nearly ended up burning down the house), while Conan nearly devoured the sandwich the older man had bought for him—as with the ice cream incident, there were perks to looking like a child.

They ate in relative silence, the first few attempts at small talk failing under Conan's rather depressive mood. At long length Nakamori sighed, set down his coffee cup, and folded his hands in front of his chin, much in the way a father would do before he imparted some age old wisdom on his kids. Conan recognized the posture right away; he remained munching on his sandwich, but watched the Inspector warily, waiting for the lecture he was sure was coming.

Instead, all he got was a stern look, and four even words, "He worries, you know."

Conan blinked, swallowing the chunk of bread, ham, and cheese that he had previously been chewing. He slowly lowered the sandwich to the table, tilting his head in what he considered a childish questioning.

Apparently it was convincing enough—or obvious enough—because Nakamori continued, "That Mouri may be drunk more often than not, nowadays (Not that he ever was much better—but at least that daughter of his kept him in check!), but when you just up and disappear on him, it sends him for a loop." The rough Inspector lost his parental air, leaning his forehead against a fist and half turning his head to look out the window in an obvious display of irritation, "He's constantly calling me in a drunken stupor, ranting about how Ran would kill him if something happened to you, and how I needed to run a full missing person hunt for you…"

Conan's mind sorta drifted off as Nakamori detailed the at length one of Mouri's drunken rants. While he was somewhat touched and disturbed that his 'guardian' gave his safety half a mind (he couldn't credit him with anymore, since he was drunk when it happened) he couldn't help the anger that began to simmer in the pit of his stomach. Why was Mouri getting himself drunk out of his mind and demanding a missing person's hunt for _him_ and not for _his own _daughter? Conan was the only one worried about Ran—or so it seemed to his mind, Takagi was the only officer who had been willing to help him and Mouri had shown his concern by getting drunk every couple hours.

Of course, it could always be that Ran wasn't a minor and he was—in physical looks, truthfully he was just as old as her, 18 years old. But, that didn't warrant complete indifference! No one really knew the danger she could be in, no one besides himself and Haibara—perhaps Agasa too.

For once, logic couldn't seem to mollify the ever present anger, but it remained reined tightly behind Conan's mask. When Nakamori finished his rant, the boy made sure to look properly sheepish, and to reassure the thief-obsessed inspector that he wouldn't run off without telling the drunkard beforehand (not in such words, but that was the gist of the statement.) Secretly he didn't think it would matter much, Mouri most likely wouldn't remember the notification, and would end up calling up Nakamori AGAIN to demand a search and rescue team.

Nakamori attempted to smile, but even his most gentle expression wound up looking harsh with his rugged and heavy set features; he was so used to scowling and frowning, face contorted with frustration at every failed heist. "You're a good kid, Edogawa. I just don't want something to happen to you, running around Tokyo on your own without telling anyone."

He stood up and ruffled Conan's hair affectionately, nudging the chair back underneath the table with his foot, "Now I guess it's time for me to get back to work. Do ya need a quick ride back home?"

Needless to say, Conan was quite tired of the Inspector's patronizing actions and quickly declined the invitation, sliding out of his seat and making a beeline for the coffee-shop door. Upon reaching the road he glanced both ways down the street before taking off back towards the Baika district, and to the park that he had been at the day before. He had a headache he needed to work off, what better way than to find a nice, secluded spot and kick around a soccer ball. It was one of a few things that still managed to calm him, and the only one he could reach before he would have to resist the urge to bang his head against the wall.

After living for so long for _her_ safety, nearly 2 years as Conan to keep the Black Org away from his family and friends, losing that reason—his anchor—was really screwing with his head. If it kept up…he had no doubt it would drive him at least slightly insane—if not worse.

A/N: Hi! This chapter was hard, but it's long! Over 3k! Be happy e.e This chapter is mainly setting up the next one, what with Tropical Land, and Nakamori is gonna have some impact, but you'll have to wait and see what n—n

Plot bunnies are biting again, the story wants to deviate from my plan --; Again. We'll see if I decide to go with it, but I happen to like the idea…meh, we'll see.

If anyone is clamoring for fluff and more KaixConan, I say just be patient x.x I have other characters to develop too! Need to get Kai to figure out what's wrong and a way to fix it, and need to get the idea of possible boyfriend/girlfriend out of Aoko's head. Then I need to get Conan out of his funk…wah x.x I never realized it would spiral out so much from my original idea (not much Aoko, or Nakamori, Mouri didn't have much mention at all—basically no supporting cast)

Anyway, hope you liked it, and drop a review to keep me motivated n---n It really works!


	7. Chapter 7

Beware: silly pointless rhyming by Mouri in the beginning. Blame me watching a Danny Phantom episode that was done all in rhyme -.-

--

Conan opened the door, tired from his trek across the district. His legs felt like led, weighing him down as he trudged inside, tossing his skateboard against the wall with little to no conscious thought. It was routine by now, and his shoes soon followed the skateboard, thrown carelessly into their spot beside Mouri's large loafers. A banging sound echoed from up ahead, accented by sounds of doors opening and closing and other miscellaneous noises. Conan ignored it the best he could, trudging along the hallway that led to his room. His best didn't last very long; it was hard to ignore when a tall, blue-suited man flew out of one of the rooms, a pile of clothes in hand, and nearly crashed straight into the short detective. Conan blinked, stopping just short of Mouri's destructive rampage. He couldn't help it as his head turned, following the man with his eyes as he stormed into the room, dropping the clothes into an open suitcase before taking off again and dashing into another room. Conan watched the cycle repeat a few more times, dodging every which way to prevent himself from being flattened before he finally decided that a) the detective wouldn't notice him if he didn't do something and b) he had no idea why Mouri was running around like a chicken with its head cut off.

"Occhan!" It took a few repeats of the word to gather Mouri's attention, and even then the man looked surprised to be addressed. Conan hadn't really spoken to him at all in the past while, so it probably seemed strange to the old man. At long length he shook his head before saying aloud, "No time Conan, shush, I need to finish and pack." Mouri said with a face, all screwed up in deep thought, "I need to be ready by the time she gets back."

"She? She who?" Conan perked up at once, trying to ask the question in his heart without being blunt. It wasn't possible, he'd know if it was. Treacherous hope bubbled up unbidden, but Conan forcefully squashed it, "Where are we going?"

"You are staying right here. So you don't run off and leave me in…" Mouri trailed off, tilting his head and screwing up his face even more. It was a signature sign of him thinking hard about something. It took him a minute, before he tentatively finished, almost asking, "…fear?"

Conan almost growled, he hadn't answered the first question! But then he stopped, and thought over Mouri's last words, the way the endings sounded the same—it was really quite absurd. "Are you talking in couplets?" He asked, eyebrow rising in question, his voice a flat and even deadpan.

Mouri gulped, caught in the act and laughed a little nervously, "Yes—no—maybe I am"

The detective continued on his way, taking the latest batch of stuff and trying to work it into a limited amount of space. Conan knew with one look that it wasn't going to fit comfortably in the suitcase, and even if the man tried to force it shut it was very likely that it would burst open. "Blame Nakamori, he got me into this jam."

Mouri straightened up a little, coughing into his fist as he cleared his throat, "He told me that I had one hour to rhyme. And if I did so successfully he'd make it worth my time."

Conan looked on, incredulous as Mouri began to rant—all in rhyme, of course. He couldn't believe the man would do something as stupid as that, even if there was a reward. The small detective pinched his nose in frustration; he'd have to wade through the entire rhyming mess if he wanted to get the answers. Generally the first line would be true, and the other sort of twisted truth. After all, Mouri was one who would say what he wanted first, and then try to think up something that would rhyme with that first line, instead of picking things that would rhyme together easily, "Okay, so from the top. Where are you going?"

"I've got a new case, to last a week from now," Mouri tried everything to close up that suitcase, from standing to sitting on it, until it finally snapped shut. It was bulging at the seams and seemed likely to burst. The latches eventually clasped, but they seemed shaky at first. "With the money I make I might be able to go to the bar—row?"

Conan rolled his eyes, not really putting much effort into trying to keep up his childish façade. His patience had already been frayed after his talk with Nakamori, and now _this_ Mouri was destroying all the good that his solitary soccer dribbling had done for his nerves. "What about me? Am I staying alone?"

"Of course not, brat." Mouri said with a scowl, "I've arranged it so that you will be baby-sat"

"By who? In case you don't know, Ran's not here!" Conan half-growled, half-whined, keeping enough sense through his frustrations to not act too out of character, and act as if he was annoyed at being left behind. In truth, he was annoyed at needing a 'baby-sitter'. "You'd know that if you didn't spend your entire time drinking bee—" Conan cut himself off, feeling quite horrified. He'd only just caught himself from talking in rhyme! It had been unconcious, just a result of hearing it. Mouri didn't notice, thankfully, since he'd been distracted by the ringing of his cell phone. He'd pulled it out and flipped it open, foregoing the usual 'hello' so he wouldn't have to come up with some way to rhyme.

It was Nakamori on the other end—Conan knew since Mouri had accidentally hit the speaker phone button—and the Inspector just laughed at the silence, "You only have five more minutes, Mouri-san. Think you can keep it up?"

"Of course." Mouri boasted, puffing out his chest even though Conan was the only one to see, "I could rhyme all day without any remorse!"

"Just a little longer and you'll win the bet." Nakamori said with a gravely chuckle, but he didn't seem to lack any confidence in himself either. Conan wondered just what was at stake, except perhaps pride. Nakamori and Mouri seemed to always be competing whenever they were together. "by the way, did you get what I asked for?"

"Yeah, but why did you want an orange?" Mouri responded almost automatically, glancing at the round fruit sitting on the bed next to the suitcase. He then froze, spending a good two minutes trying to figure out a way to rhyme that statement, before he turned a purple-y red color and started yelling in the phone, "Damn it Nakamori!" His only response was that same low laughter, barely audible to Conan because of Mouri's insistence that he'd been tricked and it shouldn't count.

The child-looking detective couldn't help a small chuckle. Nothing rhymed with orange after all.

"Geez." Mouri muttered, snapping the phone shut and hanging up on the gloating Inspector, "Why does the great Mouri Kogorou-sama lower himself to taking childish bets anyway?" The detective had all but forgotten Conan's presence, and the boy figured it was just as well, he'd gotten most of the information he needed. 'She' must have been referring to whoever Mouri'd roped into watching him for the week, there's no way he could have been referring to Ran.

Just as he turned to leave, a knock came from the door. Mouri's head snapped up, precariously balancing one suitcase and a backpack on one arm as he fumbled to answer the door, "Finally!"

He managed to open the door, nearly tripping and tumbling—suitcase and all—right into the girl on the other side of the door.

The girl seemed slightly ruffled, perhaps even a little annoyed at first before she straightened up and bowed her head to Mouri and Conan, "My apologies for being late, Mouri-san, but I wasn't given much notice." She then turned to Conan, smiling down at the sullen child, "Hello Conan-kun, I hope we'll get along."

--

It wasn't long before the weekend rolled around, and Aoko still put off telling Kaito. Her magician friend was still under the impression that she was free on Saturday for their little rendezvous—she wouldn't torment herself by calling it anything else—and she was debating between calling him and canceling because she had to baby-sit her father's coworker's charge or not. She knew what he'd say if she did, he'd laugh and invite the boy along.

Maybe it would be better if Conan came, then maybe she couldn't fool herself into thinking it was a date. Over the past few months she'd slowly been noticing things, things about her friend that she didn't want to think about. She liked to cling to the 'childhood true love' cliché, in hopes that what she was seeing now was just a mask for his true feelings.

That was one of the problems with magicians; it was very difficult to tell what was a mask and what wasn't. While it may help them when trying to keep secrets, it was extremely frustrating to someone trying to read into their best friend's thoughts.

Aoko entertained the idea of canceling the meeting just to see how Kaito would react. Would he simply smile and wave it off like it was no big deal? Would he be disappointed? Would he be angry? But eventually decided that since Tropical Land was Kaito's way of making it up to her; she should at least make some attempt to make it, even if it did involve bringing along an independent nine year old.

The Inspector's daughter lowered the book she'd been attempting to read before her musings carried her away, reaching up with one hand to hold back her hair as a stray breeze decided to dance through the park, tossing the short brown strands into her face. Her eyes strayed to the empty field across the path, where a small boy was currently playing soccer by himself. Conan showed an amazing display of skill and power for such a young kid, keeping the ball under a rigid control as he moved it all around the field. Aoko had noticed other peculiarities about the boy during her week time with him, and the one thing that stood out the most was that he always seemed to be waiting for something, or maybe someone.

Her father had told her about the Mouri girl's disappearance, and judging from some of the pictures she'd seen stashed around the agency Conan had been really close to her. She was almost willing to bet he was waiting for her to come back, and no one probably had the heart to tell him that by this time she wasn't likely to come back at all. Aoko wasn't a pessimist, but she was a realist. Half a year without contact of any kind, Ran had become a face on the milk carton, one that was kept turned away from the young one's eyes.

Aoko shook her head; it wasn't really her business to be thinking about such things. It didn't matter that Conan's desperation (which it wasn't really, but it was the only word that seemed to fit) appealed to what little maternal instincts she had, she was just his sitter for the week, and then she probably wouldn't see him again.

But that didn't mean she wouldn't make what was left of the week as fun as she could to ease his mind. Her decision made she dog-eared the book, placing it down on the bench beside her, "Conan-kun!"

The boy looked over, kicking the ball into the air before catching it easily in his hands, "Ne?" he moved when she motioned him over, tucking the black and white ball beneath his arm, "What is it?"

"Do you have anything planned for tomorrow?"

"Saturday?" at her confirming nod he thought it over, before shaking his head lightly, "No."

"Well…would you mind going to Tropical Land with a friend and I?" she understood his startled expression; the question did come out of nowhere, after all. "If you don't want to go, that's fine too. You don't have to decide now."

"Ah…" Conan looked down at the ground, his expression unreadable behind his glasses as he tossed the ball into the air again, letting it contact with his knee and go flying again. He dribbled it without paying attention to it for a few minutes, before giving Aoko an uneasy half-smile, "I'll go…"

--

_She had already planned it._ Conan could easily deduce that fact as soon as Aoko brought up the idea. He remembered, remembered when she first arrived. She'd stared out the window once her father and Mouri had driven away, muttering about plans and inconsiderate fathers. While he would rather not be in that very amusement park, he knew that she would not go if he didn't. It was easy to tell—Aoko was dedicated to her tasks, and wouldn't even think of shirking it to go on a 'date' with a friend. After all, she insisted on accompanying him to the park today, and every other time he'd left the agency.

At first it had been annoying, but eventually he learned to tolerate it—it wasn't like he had anywhere important to go. Takagi had told him that he wouldn't have any updates on the investigation until Monday at the earliest, so Conan spent most of his time either in his room at the Agency or at the park. Deep down, it reminded him of Ran—a silent watcher, just along to accompany and not to disturb. It was a feeling that both relieved and agitated him. Relieved since it was something long missed. Agitated because it made him miss Ran more.

Conan curled into a ball, tucking his knees close to his chest as he sat on the couch. He could hear Aoko's voice coming from the adjacent room. She was on the phone with her friend, discussing the plans for tomorrow. He could hear it in her voice, tell by the way she moved whenever she passed within the four edges of the door frame—she liked this friend. He wondered, as he always did whenever he saw a similar sight—a conversation over the phone or in person of a couple his age—if they knew just how lucky they were to speak like that, to be able to see each other.

He bit his lip to stifle the curse he felt welling up, uncurling and flopping over on his side, face down into the couch. It was face down that Aoko found him, when the teenager got off her cell phone and returned to the room.

--

Vermouth watched the entire scene, smiling faintly as she took down a few notes. Good, it didn't seem like the girl's presence was messing with her experiment very much. She'd been a little concerned over the past few days, when the subject actually started to respond to the sitter's actions, but it seemed that just reminding him of the Angel did wonders to set him back on his downward track.

"Yes…" she mused aloud in English, "It seems I won't have to do anything with the girl."

Nothing permanent of course, the Nakamori girl (name provided by one of her countless contacts in the Beika and Ekota districts) looked too much like the Angel to allow a prolonged or even permanent disappearance sit well with her, especially if it involved unfortunate accidents. But a well placed call would have the detective and the inspector scurrying home, and perhaps a small accidental fire at the Nakamori residence just for good measure. With the bumbling fool of a 'meitantei' back at home, Conan would return to his rightful path, and the Cherub would be out of the way—all without needing to physically harm anyone involved. Sure there was a chance of property damage from the required fire, but it didn't matter so long as the girl and her father had all their limbs intact, no?

"Just a little longer my bullet, then I'll return your power to you." she purred, speaking to the screen and at the image of her subject, face buried into the sofa, "Only four months 'till the end of term, and then I will give the Angel back."

She looked at a calendar tacked to the wall, tilting her head a little so wavy blonde hair tumbled out of it's former position, "Until the follow up of course…"

--

"Ah! There he is!" Aoko smiled and waved her hand high in to the air, signaling to the teenager she could barely see through the milling people, and with her other hand she kept a tight grip on Conan's hand. She knew he wasn't likely to wander off, but didn't want to risk losing him in such a large amusement park. She'd never hear the end of it from Kaito if she did.

"Aoko!" Kaito pushed through the crowd, stopping a little short, almost surprised when he noticed the company she was with. He recovered in a very Kaito-like manner, not missing a beat as he flashed his trademark smile at the young boy, "Hello again Edogawa-kun."

The only girl in the group tilted her head, looking, and noticing the recognition in both her companion's faces, "Do you two know each other?"

"Un," Conan nodded, "We've met."

"So cold, Edogawa-kun!" Kaito shook his head in dismay, voice conveying an obviously fake, hurt undertone, "Ice cream constitutes as a little more than 'met'!"

Aoko laughed, especially when she saw Conan's eye roll in response. Kaito—perhaps a little annoyed that he hadn't gotten any sort of worthwhile reaction out of the child—pouted, his lower lip trembling as he squatted down so he was at Conan's eye level, "You're mean Conan. You promised you would cheer up after last time."

The boy just stared, giving the teenager a patented 'are-you-an-idiot?' stare, but this one accompanied by a raised eyebrow to turn it into an Edogawa original 'why-are-you-acting-like-a-five-year-old?' look. Kaito puffed out his cheeks at the lack of response, before looking up at Aoko, "I've got a lot of work to do, don't I?"

She only nodded.

--

"Genta-kun! Mitsuhiko-kun! Wait up!" Ayumi called after her friends, laughter mixed in among the words. The two boys had run ahead a little of her, having seen something that caught their attention at one of the game booths just up ahead. Well, in truth it was Genta who ran first, followed by Mitsuhiko—who despite lacking Genta's height, easily kept pace with the chubby boy.

"Wait!" She yelled again, drawing a few amused looks from the immediately surrounding people, reminiscing of days past when it was them chasing after their friends. The cheerful, one track mind of Yoshida Ayumi didn't take any notice, finally catching up to her companions when Genta came to a stop in front of a wooden game booth. He raised one thick arm, pointing up at the prize rack from which dangled many brightly colored, stuffed objects, "Look! It's an eel!" The dark-skinned kid looked thoughtfully up at the toy, "Do you think it comes with rice?"

"Genta!" Mitsuhiko scolded lightly, taking a deep breath and straightening his body to his full height in an attempt to look authoritative to his larger friend, "Do you ever think of anything but food?"

"Yes…but I'm hungry right now."

Ayumi giggled, peering up at the long, skinny green plushie, "I think it's cute."

"A-h!" the lanky boy stopped his gentle reprimand at the girl's admission, the slightest bit of a blue staining his face as he started digging through his pockets for some loose change, "I'll win it for you, Ayumi-chan!"

"No, I will!" Genta exclaimed, the heavy set, dark skinned boy nearly shoving the thinner Mitsuhiko aside when he started to head to the counter. He pulled out the required fee and presented it to the booth worker. The man had been watching the little squabble with amused indifference, but with the boy offering the money he shook his head, gesturing a large hand to a sign on the wooden pole of the booth.

"Eeh? 16 or older?" Genta looked around quickly before standing up on his tiptoes, leaning against the wooden counter, "Ne, I look 16 right? No one will be able to tell the difference!"

The worker chuckled at the boy's conspiring whisper, "No can do, kid. They upped the age limit when a 10 year old nearly took out the attendant's eye."

Mitsuhiko—he was half glad that Genta couldn't win Ayumi the stuffed animal, but also disappointed that he couldn't give it a try himself—pointed up at the brightly colored plushies, "But why would a 16 year old want one of those?"

"Just to prove they won, or to give to a lady friend like ya'll planned to." The worker sighed and shrugged helplessly, as though he could not claim to understand the way teenagers thought nowadays, he only did his job, "look, you guys should probably find another game to play, or get your parents to play for you."

The threesome exchanged looks, all imagining the outcome should they hunt down Agasa to play for them. The professor had been the one to bring them, leaving Haibara at home, and they'd lost him when the boys went running upon entering the game area. It wouldn't take too long to find him but the mental image resulting from Agasa trying to play the game sent Ayumi into a fit of giggles, her peals of laughter soon queuing her entourage into her mirth. The two boys soon joined her once they picked up on the wavelength, the laughter causing the worker to scratch his head in slight confusion—kids these days were really weird.

After Ayumi's laughter died down Mitsuhiko placed his hand on her arm, "Come on Ayumi-chan, let's go find another game."

"Nah, don't leave. I'll win it for ya, missy." All three children turned around, hope filling Ayumi's face as she nearly pounced on the teenager who'd spoken up, "Really?"

"Of course," the tall, brown-haired high-schooler winked down at her, "I can't let down such a cute girl."

He sauntered up to the counter, paying the fee and picking up the pellet gun that the worker brought out to him, "Hey, old man, what do I have to do for the Mr. Long and Scaly up there?"

The man coughed at being called old, he didn't look more than thirty at the most, "It's a standard prize, just one win will do it."

"Kay!" the children and the worker waited for the as of yet unnamed teen to begin playing, bit he just stood there, holding and eyeing the pullet gun in his hands curiously, "So…what exactly do I have to do to win?"

"You volunteered without knowing the game?" At the utterly unashamed "Bingo!" Mitsuhiko shook his head incredulously, wondering about the childishness of someone at least eight years older than himself, "It's easy, just shoot inside the red circle on the target three times. Two shots out of three get you a free try."

"Oh, is that all?" he brought the gun up, holding it easily and comfortably in the proper grip, gaining an oddly serious expression on the perpetually smiling face. He took a moment to line up the sights, sucking in a small breath, letting it loose as the trigger depressed.

After the initial discharge it was quiet save for the permanent background noise of other patrons, but despite the muted talking of the surrounding people, the telltale sound of paper tearing was audible as the first shot tore straight through the immediate center of the circular target.

"Cool!" Genta was the first of the children to recover and close his gaping mouth. None of them really expected the teenager to be any good—after all he did just volunteer without paying any attention to the game, "You have REAALLLY good aim!"

"Nah, I'm sure it was just beginner's luck." The brown-haired teenager adopted a sheepish grin, scratching the back of his head in embarrassment. The worker watched the display with waning amusement before he opened his mouth to ask the young man to go again—only to close it with resigned annoyance when he was cut off by yet another voice, this one in an authoritative but feminine tone "Don't believe a word this idiot says."

Coming from the same general direction the first teen had was an average sized girl with shoulder-length brown-black hair, her arms crossed and a faint set of amused contentment to her features, "I was wondering where you'd run off too, Kaito. Showing off again?"

'Kaito' straightened up indignantly, resting the pellet gun against his shoulder with the nozzle pointing into the sky, "I'll have you know I was trying to win this cute little girl a prize. Is there something wrong with that, Aoko?" he paused and looked around, searching for something, "Where'd the kid sneak off to?"

"He said he wanted to get something to eat."

With a soft 'Ah' of understanding he turned back to the target, surprising everyone by firing his last two consecutive shots without warning or setting up like he had before. It was obvious that he'd only been doing it for show, since the single smooth motion sent the shells whizzing straight through the previous shot-hole in the paper, widening it slightly due to perhaps a millimeter difference. He then put the gun down on the counter, looking expectantly at the man working the game, "So…can I get my prize now?"

The man nodded dumbly, not used to such skill displayed at an amusement park game. He reached behind the counter, pulling out a copy of the long green plushie that had been the cause of it all. Kaito took it from him, giving him a thankful smile before kneeling down, handing the stuffed toy to the Ayumi, "Here ya go, one stuffed eel, as promised."

The little girl took the toy reverently, looking up at the teenager with shining eyes, "Thank you Kai-nii!"

Kaito smiled and placed his hand on her head, leaning close and whispering in her ear, "You'd better get going, your little friends are getting pretty jealous over there."

Ayumi flushed, before she ducked her head and ran back to where Mitsuhiko and Genta waited. Kaito had been correct, they were looking at the older teen with a fierce protectiveness that Ayumi had seen many a times, whether it be directed towards themselves, Conan, or even anyone else who dared to look her way.

"Come on! We need to find the professor!" Ayumi grabbed Mitsuhiko by the hand, feeling a stab of guilt as she pulled the boy along—she couldn't drag Genta even if she wanted too. Since he was closest to her size, Mitsuhiko had been dubbed the dragging buddy after Conan quit hanging around them. Thoughts of Conan made her pause, the smile fading from her face a little to the confusion of her companions. Her hand let go of Mitsuhiko's, moving to her pocket to touch the cool metal of her Shounen Tantei badge, stopping short when she couldn't find it, "No!"

"Ayumi-chan?" Genta asked, concerned when the bubbly girl suddenly stopped walking, an uncharacteristic frown on her face. Ayumi seemed to snap out of her funk at Genta's words, flashing him a smile and letting go of Mitsuhiko's hand, "I forgot something, can you two go find the professor?"

They looked about ready to refuse, but in the end complied with her wishes. The two boys left on their own, sneaking glances back in Ayumi's direction until they were out of eyesight. Ayumi spun around, heading back towards the game booths with the eel clutched to her chest. She couldn't lose that badge, it was one of the few things Conan had given her that she still had.

--

"You can come out now, Edogawa-kun."

--

A/N: Woo! Nearly twice as long of a chappie xD Normally I woulda ended it at 2k words-ish and used the other half for next time, but I figure I need to make up for it being late. I'm so glad my teacher lets me work on this in class (when I'm done with my work, of course) or I wouldn't be anywhere near done --;

I'm curious, how many people got this far into the story? Hits aren't very reliable, since they increment every page view, so some may be rereads. Reviews aren't either, since I know the majority of people don't review.

So sue me, I'm curious .-. I also have a question for y'all readers. Are the chapters declining in quality? I'm a bit worried since a lot of the time I rush a bit to meet the self-imposed deadline of one chappie of a story a week (Masq, FDT, then Luck—so one chappie for any one story every 3 weeks). Or rush to get it done before it gets to be an entire week late (like this one). Can I get some feedback on that? If it turns out they are declining, I can make sure I take more time between writing and posting… I just wanna make sure I'm not ruining a story I like because of my procrastinating habits x.x


	8. Chapter 8

"Where did you go, anyway?" Ayumi perked up, recognizing the voice; at least she was following the right track. People were milling around and blocking the view, especially for a child her size, so it was hard to retrace her tracks with any accuracy. While there were some—very few—times when being short had been advantageous, many were the days she wished for more height. She didn't hear the answer Kaito's question had garnered, it was either spoken too softly and was covered up by the ambient background noise or it just didn't have the same carrying, noticeable quality that the teenager's had that let it pierce through other sounds.

Satisfied with her current placement—she could just barely see the colorful prize rack from the game now that she had an idea of where she was—Ayumi began to scan the ground. Every now and then she had to dodge a person(or persons) who missed the small girl and came far too close to stepping on her, but overall her search went uninterrupted, if mostly unsuccessful. She migrated closer to where she could hear the teenager's voice, using it as a reference point in her search. She knew she'd dropped it near the booth, she clearly remembered placing her hand in her pocket and feeling the cold metal when Mitsuhiko and Genta had been squabbling. Few minutes passed before something glinted in the sudden sunlight, a person's shadow moving and allowing the illumination to reflect against the metal. "Ah!" she nearly squealed in relief and delight, pouncing upon the small pin and picking it up off the ground, "There you are!"

The metal was quite cool in her hands, bringing a delighted smile to her face as she cradled it close. The badges had fallen into disuse since Conan always kept his flicked off, but the Shounen Tantei wouldn't get rid of them for the world. They were a symbol; a remembrance of a fun time that Ayumi was sure would come again before long.

"Hello…what are ya doin' back again, missy?"

Ayumi tilted her head up, smiling a little when she noticed Kaito leaning over her. He backed up when she acknowledged him, giving her enough room to straighten without any danger of head-to-head contact. Ayumi showed the pin to the teenager, holding it up to the light, "I dropped my badge! I had to come back and get it."

She puffed out her chest with pride as he examined the small motif on the transmitter, a silhouette of Sherlock Holmes leaning against a stylized English letter B. He hummed appreciatively, sinking down to a crouch to see it better, "Detectives eh? Have any cases?"

Ayumi thought over the question, not quite sure how to answer. The last case—the mystery of the missing shoe had long since been solved and put away, and the Shounen Tantei was currently between cases. Of course, they were still working on that old one…At length she shook her head, short black hair covering her face for a moment, "Not really. Our only active one is kinda old."

At the teen's questioning look she dug into her pockets, pulling out a crumpled piece of paper. She handed it to Kaito, her attempts at smoothing it out only proving counter-productive. With a small chuckle he took it, easily and deftly returned it to some semi-legible state. Upon noting the picture on the crumpled paper a strange, almost alarmed look managed to break through his easy smile. It threw Ayumi for a confused loop when he straightened up, and stared out over his shoulder at the people behind him, face thoughtful and drawn. The girl attempted to see what had caught his attention, but not even drawing herself up to her full height would make up for the extra two feet (at least) difference. Eventually she settled for just asking, curiosity nearly eating her alive—did he know Ran? It would make sense, Mouri and the police had hushed up her disappearance, something about "keeping up appearances", whatever that meant. Ayumi wondered sometimes at the mysterious ways of adults, the more people who knew about the act means more people to gather information from, right?

At her completely innocent question, the teenager seemed to remember her existence, looking a tad-bit lost for a moment before slipping seamlessly into the smile he'd been wearing before the appearance of the photograph. Ayumi would have questioned that he'd ever lost it, if not for the fact that she was certain about the expression shift. While the moments of difference had been minute, far less than a minute total, she'd seen and noticed it, and Conan said to always observe, and take _every_ little thing into account. Really, it was quite tiring and annoying at times, but Conan said to…

"You've just given me a clue to my own mystery. Ayumi-chan." Kaito reached down to ruffle her hair a little, a thoughtful undertone beneath the ever-present cheer, one that Ayumi would have missed if she hadn't been working hard on noticing everything, "I promise I'll tell ya if I hear anything, okay?"

The girl shoved aside the nagging details, storing them away only to be buried within the semi-organized clutter that is a child's mind. She smiled brightly and bobbed her head in thanks, taking back the crumpled photo and replacing it in her pocket. Her badge did not go back into the depths, but instead was pinned proudly and visibly on the lapel on her shirt, "I need to go catch up with Mitsuhiko-kun and Genta-kun. Thank you!"

Kaito shook his hand in an enthusiastic wave, turning once the girl vanished into the crowd and looking for the rest of his group. He easily spotted the duo, they had migrated from when he had left them, but didn't go very far. Conan had apparently dragged Aoko out of plain sight and pestered her to play a game that was conveniently hidden from someone of Ayumi's height. The concealed position aside, normally the action wouldn't be near as suspicious, but the boy wasn't even paying attention to the game, his eyes had kept shifting back to where Ayumi had once stood.

He had no doubts about it now. The first time could have been coincidence, but Kaito subscribed to the theory that once was coincidence, but anything more was deliberate. Conan was avoiding his own friends, friends that Kaito knew used to be attached to his hip (cute kids, even if they prevented Conan from going all out) and that sent off warning bells. It all was starting to piece together, and Ayumi's appearance and subsequence revelation had given him the clue he needed to come up with a course of action. He wouldn't dare to presume to draw a conclusion on so little evidence—leaping without at least some sort of planning was a no-no in the Kaitou handbook; it could land a perfectly innocent thief behind bars, or in some cases, six feet under—but it did give him a direction to turn his inquiries.

If anything would shake up Tantei-kun so badly, it would be something happening to one of his precious people. The kids were fine, he'd just seen them (excluding the scary blonde one, but he had a feeling she could take care of herself) and the Mouri girl…

Despite the rather absorbed and critical nature of his thoughts, he was not just standing around staring at nothing. During the time he had snuck up on Aoko, burst into laughter when he startled her with a word, and dodged an angry fist to his head. His ability to multi-task was near legendary at school, and obvious to those who ever ran up against a certain white-clad thief; it was child's play to categorize the facts he had been given, make tentative connections with recent and not so recent developments, and decide on further means of investigation. All while he was avoiding the chase that was inevitable whenever he surprised the fierce Aoko, no matter when or where Kaito set it off. Oh sure she would blush from embarrassment the moment she realized that people were stopping and staring, but for the moment she'd probably even forgotten about the boy she should be watching. Of course that would be much more disastrous if Conan was the typical boy, one who would wander off and get into trouble at a moment's inattention. But as it was, Conan was _not_ (thankfully, Kaito knew Aoko would enact some pretty nasty revenge if he had caused her to lose her charge) and while the wandering off and getting in trouble part was true in its own right, he generally did it with a reason better than to terrorize his current watcher.

The chase didn't last long—while Aoko was blind to the world right now, Kaito was well aware that they could get kicked out should they cause too much trouble, and sharing this knowledge led Aoko to—reluctantly, he might add—to let him off this time with just a whack on the head and a promise for retribution come Monday.

Conan had turned away during the scene, face impassive and slightly bored with the display. However, Kaito was well versed in reading the many volumes of Chibi-Holmes and could easily tell that the boy was in deep thought. He didn't get much farther down that trail of thinking when Aoko grabbed both his and Conan's hands (granted it was more like she took Conan's and forcibly snatched Kaito's)

"Come on! I'm tired of just standing around here!"

No matter the age or the circumstances, there is always a sense of comraderie between two boys who are under the complete control of the same girl. Identical, almost automatic looks of exasperation and resignation passed between both miniature detective and moonlight thief as they dutifully allowed themselves to be dragged out of the game area and towards where the larger rides towered over the shops, trees, and light posts.

-

"Takagi-kun," The inspector's rumbling voice snapped the officer out of the daze he was in, tearing his eyes away from the results of the private inquiries he had submitted. Megure was standing at the door to his office, a sheaf of paper in his gloved hands. Takagi quickly set down the note-pad he'd been writing in, swiveling around in his desk chair to meet his superior, "Inspector?"

While he did his best to put on his calmest expression (and threw in some polite curiosity in there as well) inside his thoughts were racing. Why was the Inspector here? He hadn't gotten a memo for a new case and he was pretty sure he'd gotten everything done he needed to do. He clearly remembered submitting the report from the last case—wait…WAS that the last case? The date in his mind was fuzzy, probably a result of the tizzy he was slowly working himself into. He began to panic, it was the only reason Megure would be here, he HAD to have forgotten the report, and there could be no other reasonable explanation for the inspector's appearance.

A single black eyebrow raised, and an amused chuckle preceded the inspector's words, "Calm down Takagi-kun, you look like you are about to hyperventilate. I just want to talk."

"But…sir…the report?"

Megure tilted his head, using one hand to extract a leaf of paper from the small pile in his hands, "I already have it, Takagi-kun."

The befuddled officer sank back into his chair; his expression of disbelief caused another laugh from the inspector. At last Megure decided he'd stalled enough and moved inside the office, returning the report to the pile of papers in his hands, "In anycase, there is something I need to talk to you about. It involves your investigation into Mouri-kun's daughter."

Takagi blinked, sending a worried glance to the computer screen that currently displayed his recent results into that very investigation. It still displayed innocently exactly what it had a few minutes ago, a key bit of information that could point the investigation closer to an end, "I promise sir, my performance will not be affected by this."

"That's not what I'm worried about, Takagi." the Inspector sighed, his mustache quivering with every breath of air he took in and exhaled. "I need you to stop the investigation."

"What?" the officer could only mutter in disbelief, his jaw dropping open slightly, "Is there an official investigation no one is telling me about?"

Megure shook his head, "No. But there are reasons there never WAS an investigation."

The usually genial inspector's face hardened minutely, the graveness of his expression trying to impress upon the other man the importance of the matter, "I expect you'll cease the investigation immediately, and delete all files pertaining to it by the time you leave tonight."

Without another word of explanation the Inspector stepped out of the office, leaving a torn Takagi alone. On one hand, it went against his very nature to disobey a direct order. On the other, he couldn't just drop the matter in good conscience. He glanced at the merrily shining computer screen, upon which the fruits of his inquiries rested. He made up his mind after a couple moments of silent battle, reaching into his desk to withdraw a blank disk. He'd stay quiet about the results, but only until he found out why Megure ordered him to stop the investigation. After that…he'd decide based on his findings.

The officer sighed as he saved the information onto the disk, sliding it into the deep pockets of his jacket once completed. He was starting yet another investigation…maybe Mouri-san had the right idea in opening up a Detective Agency. At least then he wouldn't have to worry about suddenly being kicked off the case because a superior said so. Takagi glanced at the clock, noting the blinking 5:02 with some amount of drained interest, Edogawa should be home by now… He reached to pick up the phone, dialing the number quickly and waiting for the ringing to stop.

--

"_I apologize for the inconvenience, Conan-kun, but I'm afraid I've found no leads in your search. Due to circumstances I'll have to stop the investigation for the present."_

A dead end. Again.

Conan bit back the disappointment/anger/fear that welled up at the message he found on the answering machine as soon as he returned home. His glasses were flung away from him, clattering against the wall and falling to the floor, thrown with enough force to crack the glass. He curled up into a ball in the armchair, knowing that Aoko would be concerned once she came out of the room she'd been inhabiting during her stay, but not quite caring.

_Ran…_

--

"Check and mate, Cool Guy."

Vermouth smiled contentedly at the screen, mentally praising herself for her cleverness in not stopping the child's investigation the moment she'd learned of it. After all, taking away hope was had far more of an effect when the subject allowed it to blossom in the first place.

--

"Ran's missing, eh?"

Kaito leaned back against the chair backing, looking up at the ceiling of his father's secret room, the Kid's lair. Half dissembled gadgets littered the desk, along with papers, journals, and other miscellaneous paraphernalia, "It makes sense."

He let out a frustrated breath of air before straightening up, placing a hand on his temple and using the other to flip through the notes in one of his books, he needed to clear his head. Maybe it was time he planned another heist.

A/N: 2.6k…not bad considering how hard this was to end … Takagi and Megure wouldn't cooperate with me T-T Oh well, I got the plot point I needed, so all is well. Kid heist should be coming up (YAY!) I need to have at least one in here…the first chappie doesn't count --;

Hope ya'll enjoyed it! Leave meh a review please? Hmm…a question worked last time…so…I'll ask one this time. Anyone have any guesses as to why Megure's stopping the investigation? Yes Vermouth is involved, but no it's not blackmail. Guess away! (Please? I wanna know what y'all come up with)

I'll see a few of you next week with either Luck or FDT (Dunno if Cloudy will cooperate yet…)


	9. Chapter 9

Life was quiet for the rest of the week, and Aoko found herself leaving the Mouri home with a faint sense of failure in her mind. Ever since returning from Tropical Land…things just went down hill. Her self assigned mission to cheer Conan up seemed to backfire, and the remaining time until Detective Mouri's return was spent with the child closed up in his room, barely speaking to her except a quiet 'thank you' whenever she brought up some food.

She'd toyed with the idea of making him come out to eat, but decided against it. She could not, under any type of justification, allow a child to go hungry. Aoko wasn't quite sure why, but something told her that her deliveries were the only reason he kept eating. His friends had called on the office once or twice (to her surprise Ayumi, the cute girl from the park, had been one of them) but each time she could not coax him out.

The Inspector's daughter had wracked her brain to try and think of the catalyst, but couldn't come up with anything at all. The only lead she had was his earlier depression over Mouri Ran's disappearance, but there was nothing to cause this drastic of a change in so short a time. She never even got close to the truth before she found herself tossing her bag into the backseat of her father's car, half turning and glancing up at the burning windows of the Detective Agency.

"What's the problem?" Her father ended up asking as she slid into the passenger's seat, giving her a sideways glance before starting up the car. She looked at him, hoping her expression wasn't quite as dejected and helpless as she felt.

"Conan-kun."

The name seemed to say it all since Nakamori didn't ask for any more clarification. The car moved away from the curve and began to roll on down the empty street, leaving the windows behind them like lonely candles in the night. The constant thrum of the engine and the vibrations were all that either heard for the longest time, for the radio in the old vehicle was long since broken, and was only drowned out when the Inspector finally spoke during a short break at a red traffic light, "That kid…he's always caused problems. Before, he was always getting in the way of Mouri's cases. Nosing around, or just overall getting into trouble with those little friends of his."

His words drew Aoko from the streets, glancing at her father in blatant disbelief. She could not imagine the quiet, thoughtful Conan as the trouble maker her father painted him to be. She admitted that she hadn't known him before this…depression hit, but she just could not see it. However, she didn't call her dad on his somewhat unflattering description and waited, rather impatiently, for him to continue.

The light turned green and the vehicle accelerated, getting up to speed rather slowly in the city streets. Nakamori was steering with one hand, the other one absently resting on his leg, patting it lightly—probably looking for a cigarette in his pant's pocket. The Inspector's eyes were on the road, and it wasn't until they were out of traffic and into the more suburban, residential areas of Ekota before speaking again, "…most of us in the office wish he'd act that way again."

"Why?"

"Multiple reasons. First off, apparently his mood has been affecting Mouri-san, and his work is declining. Obviously it doesn't do to have our top homicide detective off his game. On the other…Most of us actually like the brat, even if he interrupts us for the silliest notions."

Aoko laughed, her father joining her a few moments afterwards, adding his deep chuckle to her own. It was odd to hear the gruff affection in the grizzled inspector's voice, odd but not unwelcome. It actually warmed her a little inside; maybe her father was finally broadening his horizon beyond his daughter and his job. It was not the first time that Aoko wished she could have met the Conan he used to be.

-

"Ka—Kaito!"

The magician snapped out of his daze, pulling his thoughts away from heist plans, little detectives, and know-it-all witches. Koizumi Akako ambushed him on the way to school that morning, seeming to drift up next to him out of nowhere to fall into step beside him. Even if he never showed it, he was always on guard when it came to that girl. True magic wasn't something he understood very well, and he was never quite sure if she'd gotten over her "kill the kaitou" stage. She often got this odd little glint in her brown eyes, and sometimes even he couldn't tell the difference between her "I know something and you don't" stare versus "you'd be a very nice addition to my collection". By collection he meant her harem, which surprisingly hadn't followed her that morning.

Pushing Akako aside he focused on what Aoko was saying, nodding his head in all the right places as she began talking quietly. A few of their fellow classmates glanced in their direction, but attention wandered once it was clear that there was no lingering insult on the female side of the equation, so the class was shaping up to be chase free—a very rare occasion.

Kaito considered intentionally provoking her into the regular battle of speed and agility; it ranked considerably higher on the entertainment scale than to hear her discussing the last night's homework. He'd started noticing over the years that Aoko liked to talk a lot, or yell, but yelling is just louder talking right?

That was the weird thing about Akako that morning; she hadn't said a word the entire way. Just smiled that odd smile that set him on edge the entire way, and led him to be grateful for when he could escape into the school. He wished she wasn't so set on maintaining her air of infallibility and foreknowledge; it might make her easier to deal with.

"Kaito!"

When he came to Aoko was hovering in front of his desk, expression somewhere in between the realm of annoyed and concern. What happened? He'd only let his thoughts stray a little, maybe a minute at most. "What?"

"You were spacing out." Aoko crossed her arms, the long-sleeved blue uniform blouse bunching up a little at her elbows, "for about five minutes."

"Aah, sorry." Kaito yawned, deciding to lay all the blame on exhaustion. It was partially true at any rate; he'd snuck out last night to do some reconnaissance of his newly decided target. Of course he would never, in a million years admit the slightest mention of his nightlife to the straight and narrow, law abiding Aoko and as such neglected to expand on the reasons for his excuse, "I was up late helping Mom."

His own personal mother-hen only responded with a "Get some sleep, idiot!" before the teacher decided it was past time to start class. A glance at the clock quickly confirmed that it was actually three minutes early, a tidbit that brought a sense of satisfaction to the fun-loving magician—she probably just wanted to head off yet another potential argument.

It would be so easy to provoke Aoko, the first that came to mind would be actually stating the mother-hen comment, but he decided to let the teacher have her order. For now anyway.

-

Takagi sat in front of his computer at home, scanning through the information he'd dug up before being ordered to stop his investigation. He didn't understand it, not at all. According to what he'd found out, there shouldn't need to be an investigation! Ran and her mother had bought two tickets to America, boarded the plane, and left the country about a day after Detective Mouri had come into work drunk wailing about how he couldn't live without Ran.

Yet, something felt off.

Kisaki Eri had returned a day later, but there was no word from Ran since.

It didn't make sense. It didn't fit with the exuberant girl at all. There was no way, no way she'd go so long without checking in, whether it be by mail, phone, or just having her mother pass the message. He'd discretely probed Mouri (the man either ended up in a pitiful or a foul mood when the girl was mentioned) and outright asked Conan—there hadn't been any sort of argument or altercation in the proceeding weeks, or even in earlier months.

The man sighed and massaged his temples, muttering a pitiful, "Why me?" to the air. What was he missing? Why did Megure stop his investigation _now?_ Now he had no authority to dig deeper into the flight records, to broaden his search. He'd finally found something! He'd be able to give at least some sort of answer to Conan and maybe slow the down-ward spiral he'd witnessed ever since the boy had brought the case to him.

"I'm an officer, not a detective." Takagi mumbled, he was good at fresh scenes, but cold ones were extremely difficult. He did not have the contacts that Shiratori or Satou had, nor could he enlist them to help. They both respected Megure too much to just jump into something he'd forbidden (Takagi respected him too, but he'd already been working on the case for over a month now.)

If he could, he would go to Kudou with the information, but the teenaged detective continued to keep his work and location secret, and hadn't popped back in about a year. With no way to contact him, that route was out. Mouri was out of the question as well, the detective's skill and fire had been rapidly degenerating, and he'd already lost much of the reputation he'd gained over the years. Takagi considered the possibility that working on his daughter's case would give him back some of the fire, but decided against it—he was too close to the case.

As his mind cycled through the detectives he'd known, two names came to the forefront of his thoughts. He needed someone with enough interest to care about taking the case, and the skills to follow through with it. Hattori Heiji, the Osaka Detective had both, but he was quite a ways away. Takagi wasn't sure the teenager would be able to get away from school for long enough without disclosing the details to his father and he knew the Police Inspector would not allow a banned case. There was one other local detective, but he held no personal attachment to the case. But…if he presented it right, perhaps the challenge would appeal to the British detective, Hakuba Sugaru.

Tired of letting the problem spin throughout his head, Takagi decided to let the matter sit. He had an appointment with Kisaki Eri the next morning, and he'd figure out what to do after questioning her about the trip she and Ran took.

-

Intermission:

"Heading to the MR again?"

"Yeah."

"Alright, see ya later Ran!"

"Bye!" The girl yelled back in her accented English, waving cheerily to the girls who were headed down another hallway. The dorm hall was a little too lavish for her humble tastes, but she was glad she'd received the opportunity to study here, even if it was for only a year. The people were nice, the teachers wonderful, and the surroundings peaceful since the campus was nestled back in the mountains.

The only thing she didn't have was her family.

Ran hummed as she made her way down the hall, bag thumping against her shoulder, dark blue pleated skirt swishing. The uniforms had taken some getting used to, but they weren't bad. Everyone wore them, girls in skirts and boys in slacks of course. Even the gi of the karate club were colored a deep blue—it was a nice color, reminding her of Shinichi's eyes…

She turned down another hallway, walking half-way down before opening a door and ducking inside. The older woman behind the counter looked up, smiling at her upon recognizing her, "Hello Ran! Here for your mail?"

"Un!" Ran nodded, moving up to the counter and accepting the small stack of mail the woman pulled out. It was a pity cell-phones didn't get service up here, and normal phones were regulated to emergency use only, sometimes she wished she could hear her dad's voice, or Conan's, or…Shinichi.

Her fingers traced the edge of the letters, flipping through and finding one written in a familiar sharp and precise hand. It was sad; Shinichi was more regular with his letters than he ever was with his phone calls. A smile spread across her face as she thanked the mail-lady—Miss Veronica she'd been told to call her—Shinichi never told her what he was doing (his current letter was marked from Hokaido) but it was nice to hear from him on a weekly basis unlike his formerly random monthly calls..

With the letters in hand, she headed back to her room; she had karate class in an hour. That was just enough time to read a few.

A/N: I added the interlude Ran is so clueless. Those letters were written by Vermouth! Heck, Veronica probably is Vermouth (I'm not sure…)

Hmm…Will Takagi go to Hakuba? I'm not sure yet. The plot is starting to evolve again -.-;; Hope you liked the chapter and interlude (the chappie wasn't quite long enough on it's own.) Thanks to all who have read this, and who have reviewed it. I know this isn't my most updated fic, and the time varies a lot, but I will do my best to finish it for you all.

…One day…

Now, review and feed meh ego :D It's kind of hungry right now.


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